Learning to Heal from Death

Remembering Appa

My father died in my arms. Well, not exactly. I was leaning over him, asking him to lift his arms which were  becoming unresponsive. He lifted them partly twice, then lowered for the last time. His eyes had closed. I called him, but he did not respond.

Just a short while ago, his finger tips had turned blue - low oxygen. We argued, and postponed calling doctor. He had become unconscious twice before, and had revived  before the ambulance arrived. The first time, the doctor had said it could be transient ischemic attack (TIA). The second time, we took him to emergency, and they ran a battery of tests. They quizzed him and us, and looked unsure. The unfriendly doctor wanted to admit him, but we brought him home. We learnt DMA – discharge against medical advice- from another emergency doctor we knew. He survived comfortably for six months more.

This time I realized that he might not revive. I was in a bit of panic and shock, thinking of what to do. I could have lain down by his side, holding his hand, like in a movie, meditating or whispering a sad and beautiful song like Drops of Jupiter in Her Hair or Because I could not stop for Death (Emily Dickinson). But I never got those beautiful moments that night or the following days. I was frozen, and teared up only few days later.

We were not sure of what we should do. We asked the young doctor who had come with the ambulance. We are amazed at the mature reply he gave. He was so much younger to us. Here we were worrying about traditions like burning a lamp, which we did not know. He said we should do what we think is right or what we believe in, or words to that effect. It did help us. It did not occur to us to hold a  vigil that night. Now I think we could have taken turns and sat up with him. I did come down later and hold him, feeling a rush of emotion.

Talking About Death

Now, years later, I think we should discuss one’s own death with family. How, if at all one should  be mourned or celebrated. Like I see in Western movies. I think instead of a sombre  Visnu Sahasranama playing while relatives mill around, I should like a uplifting song played, maybe Rahen na Rahen Ham (from Mamta) after I die.  

We learn about death, soul, rebirth, moksha from Vedanta. But these did not help me after he passed away. I was hurt and angry with God. We are not immortal, we know that, and spiritual books teach us about accepting life, fate and death. But tested, we fail; at least I did.

We need some practical, easy ways to celebrate and accept death of a loved one. If they have discussed how their funeral should be done, and share their wishes, dreams, it would help. Instead we do shraddh ceremonies running to two weeks with business like priests, who stumble through slokas. The priest does not try to condole or offer any comfort.

He was a silent man, not demonstrative in his affections or anger. But he was there for us in every sense. He was a very indulgent father. We had a series of pets at home, a puppy, rabbits, parrots, and then a he brought home unannounced a pair of white rats. I let them loose in a store room we had. They disappeared into a drain hole, and later their babies crept out. They would swarm over us kids as we fed them. Dad did not play with our pets, but tolerated their nuisance. 

Lessons from Life

He was a man of few words, and did not lecture us or offer guidance explicitly. We were driving up a hill in Chikamagalur. He was 90, and was gamely coming along for this trip with me and my brother. Suddenly he spoke up, without any context.

“You know it is easy to get upset at job and quit. But we should learn to adjust. In my first job, after probation, I was given post of a steno, though I was a graduate. I said I would quit to my boss. He was an Englishman, Mr. Ross. He persuaded me to stay, and said he would ensure I got a promotion soon.”

I did not reply, and that was the end of his talk. I realized he was concerned about me. I had quit or been laid off in a series of jobs. I was 50 and a freelancer who only got small projects. He had never said a word about my career till then.

Now that you have been set free into the universe and quantum world, now that you understand everything, speak to me. Did you want to say something?

Now that you are free of worldly sorrows and desires, tell me, has my life been in vain? Should I be doing something else? Did I take good care of you in your last days, was I a good son? 

Mother told me when she was bedridden with cancer that it is written in my horoscope that I would take care of my parents in their old age. 

Tell me, did I fulfill the prophesy?