My earliest recollection of an independent "thought" or wish of mine is probably something which most millennial kids might have shared, but did not care to express enough aloud. It was that the world should live on forever, that nobody should die. With time, the "desire" matured to - Okay, none of my relatives should die. And eventually to - my parents should not die. By which time, I was quite mature enough to stop processing this thought process much farther. But by then, I guess the childhood desire stuck and so did the last version of the consciously modified desire.
And then life went on for a while. Quite a while. Till now, when I realize that one of my earliest thoughts or desires, that I have cared to remember for all of my life till now (even if I did not take it seriously beyond a point), has finally run its course and been officially disproved or rather, disallowed, with the passing away of Appa.
What followed through the weeks He was hospitalized and us as family members waiting anxiously - that knock on the door at midnight to inform us to rush to the ICU, was traumatic to say the least. It was also a lesson in handling grief - a sordid realization about how the mind automatically conditions itself involuntarily. You oscillate between wishing for His recovery on the one side and then wish no more pain for Him immediately a few moments after. That piercing guilt if you were actually not being sincere in wishing for His speedy recovery, because of practical realities and an objective assessment of reality. This period tests your faith obviously, but you cant give up on that as well. And then the whole cycle continues for as long as you are at the hospital.
For a 40+ year old who suffered his first truly personal loss now, you have just had assumptions for how to deal with the trauma. One such being that the sooner you complete the mortal rites, the faster the healing process begins. But I realize that for as long as Appa's body was around, I was actually in a position to spend time with Him, if only a few more hours. The pain really starts hitting you once you're done with the rites to the mortal remains.
You're truly in a daze processing what's happening outside, what is happening inside, taking care of your mother and of course, handling relatives. In the midst of all this, you suddenly step back and marvel at the incredulity of the cremation process of Hinduism - unlike other cultures where your last memory of your loved one is of that person's face as you knew it gently lowered into a coffin or buried, our culture is truly brutal and stunningly real - you spend time with the body, you continue to feed it even though there is no more life and then you, as the son, light the pyre and watch Agni engulf the body. And you dont stop at that - you wait for the remains to come out, handle them physically until you take them out to a stream or a river, where it mixes back with nature.
We are all obsessed with our lives, our emotions and choices, probably a bit more now than before. When a reality check like death hits you, is when you are at least given a chance to realize the futility of a lot of these obsessions. That is not to say that all such obsessions are futile, or that everyone who gets this chance realizes the futility or chooses to wisen up.
At different points during the aftermath of Appa's death, I have been feeling that memories are too sasta or insignificant to deal with a life that you have been part of for all your life till now. And you suddenly oscillate to the other extreme and realize the preciousness of the same memories which you barely moments ago thought were pointless or too light. It is in these contradictions that you ultimately (not) settle.
I also realize that during the processing of grief, one probably feels extra-bad at the passing away of a loved one because of certain characteristics - like simplicity, innocence, etc. Which may not be fair - since passing away of a loved one of any kind is just as precious. But in Appa's case - it added to the pain - his quiet dignity, innocent demeanour and minimal requirements or expectations from life.
You start reminiscing the last hug, the last time you held their hand, the last time you touched their forehead. You know ultimately you will move on. With their memories of course. But the memories probably become a bit hazy over time. The specifics fade away. The intimacy may not come back to the mind as stirringly as it used to. One wishes the specifics remain etched in your memory till your time comes. After all, a loved one is a loved one. Till then, you get back to life. Or what's left of it.
Hinduism, however, makes you busy in the aftermath of your loved one's passing away. You are immediately occupied with ensuring Their safe journey to Pithruloka - or the land of the departed ancestors. It is both a diversion and a solemn-cum-sincere commitment - to honour and take care of Them after Their departure from life as we know it. I find/found this moving and noble. And as some sort of panacea to deal with the loss. That at least you can try and ensure Their onward journey is smooth.
But the pain remains. And experienced it must be, because if you have come to experience life - it is in these sorrows that you also realize joy. And it is this sorrow or suffering that you go through - that makes you realize how much They truly meant to you, and may give Them some succour - that they are missed.
Fare thee well, Appa. You were a good man. You will be missed.
