TREASURED TIMES WITH PARENTS
I remember making that last trip to my father who was in
hospital suffering from his heart attack. He was covered with all kinds of
medical equipment and I sat next to him on his bed. He saw a look of despair on
my face and assured me that he was in good shape and would be discharged from
hospital soon to go home. He forced a smile and I said what I had planned to
say, “I love you Dad (Taji).”
My father replied, “I love you too, son but I want you to
do two things for me. The first thing I want you do is to look after your
mother after I am gone and the second thing is for you to recite a few couplets
from the holy book Gita for me.”
I thanked him for teaching me some of those and I repeated
almost all of them from my Gayatri Mantra to verses 7 and 8 of Chapter 4 of the
Bhagwad Gita. While I was reciting these
he was listening intently but his eyes had tears in them. When I asked him the
reason for his sorrow and tears in his eyes he said the tears were of joy that I
heard my eldest child show me the route to my next home and then they were
tears of sorrow for my son who I have burdened with added responsibility before
going home.”
A lot of these did not make much sense then but they were
all revealed when I got the message en route to my home that he was no more. I
returned to take care of his funeral but was pleased that I made that last
visit to my dying father and was able to communicate some of my last words to
him.
After writing this episode in my ‘Sweet and Sour
Reflections’ that is published on my various websites I heard from many people
who had made that same difficult but essential journey to say their last
goodbye to their parents and from others who could not make it in time or they
know that they will be making that important journey soon. It was very sad to
hear from those who missed their chance, who got delayed too long, and even
now, years later, deeply regret it.
One of my friends wrote to me, “I will feel guilty about
not having said my last goodbye to my father before his death to tell him one
last time how much he meant to me.”
My next friend wrote, “I was fortunate like you that the
last thing I ever said to my father was ‘I love you’ and for me to get that
gift was one of the best things in my life.”
A lady friend of mine Anita was at her job in the city and
when the call came from the nursing home that her mother was critically ill,
she was fortunate to arrive at her mother’s bedside half an hour before her
passing away. She wrote, “I was with my mother, holding her hand and saying
every prayer that she had taught me into her ear.”
Then there was another person who I had not met but he
wrote to say that he had spent his last annual leave with his father, walking
on the beach and talking about life but two days later he received a call that
his dad dropped dead while putting on his shoes. He was sixty-six, fit and in
perfect health. So he said, I now tell people to make their connections now
because you just never know what happens next.
Ganesh, who moved his dying mother back home added, “I am
so grateful that I was able to have her with me for her final days.”
It took James many years and the death of his mother to
realize something, “You see, big guys do cry,” and they do say, “ I love you,
Mom.”
Joseph makes a point to have dinner with his
seventy-six-year-old mother every day, not knowing which might be the last. “It
is hard to say goodbye and to say how much you love your parents,” he wrote,
“but better to say it than to leave it unsaid.”
Ratna made that last trip two years ago and said that it
was difficult but the memories from my last few days with my Dad are nothing
short of priceless.”
“I lost my father very suddenly, almost ten years ago, when
he was only seventy three,” wrote Radha. “What I wouldn’t have given to have
had a chance for one last meaningful visit.”
Likewise, Krish’s father left for his war duties twenty two
years ago and never returned and he says, “I would give anything to have one
more day with him.”
Devi looks at her aging parents and says, “I realize my
time with them is nearing an end. As an only child who hasn’t married, I see
that our branch of the family tree is about to fall off.”
Joe’s regrets have spanned the last half-century. He
writes, “Fresh out of college and caught up in the demands of a new career, I
never said those heartfelt words to my father in the late 1960s even though I
knew that his heart disease would soon claim his life.”
I received another regret from some Michael who wrote, “My
dad taught my brother and I that true men never told another man they loved
him. I am sorry now that I never spoke that L-word to my dad. He never told us
that he loved us either. I guess he thought we knew.”
I have formed my view on this issue now. This vital last
visit to parents should never be delayed. We can procrastinate paying our taxes
or paying our phone bills but never on telling our aging parents what is in our
heart.
My beloved wife Saroj had a massive heart attack at home
and was taken to the intensive care unit to be placed on life support that made
talking impossible. She passed away two days later, all her four children
beside her. The grieving husband was left looking at the drizzle of rain
falling outside the window as if a gift was being sent from heaven.
I do not need to emphasise how treasured are those last few
days together with our aging parents. I guess what I am getting at is that time
is precious, life is short and it can end suddenly. So always let your aging
parents know what you are feeling. Never wait.
Some trips home are harder than others but Raj’s trip was
one of the hardest of all. Home for him was the house he grew up in, the home
where his parents still lived, although for how much longer no one could say.
At eighty-eight, his mother was frail and forgetful but
with her new hip replacement and heart bypass she was otherwise going strong.
It was his father, who until a few months ago was always the robust one,
physically strong, mentally sharp and of near boundless energy. However, then
came the diagnosis of leukaemia followed by some other complications and the
poison that was dished out to him as medicine.
Raj’s father did not want him to come because as he put it
that Raj had his own family to look after but Raj showed up anyway.
Disobedience for him never felt more correct.
Raj has narrated his story to me, “My father was home from
hospital temporarily but the full and the devastating effects of the
chemotherapy had not yet arrived. He was weak but comfortable, his mind clear.
He was turning eighty- nine soon.
This was our opportunity to be together but neither of us
would say it, although we both knew that the last day was coming closer. We
usually sat at the kitchen table or the lounge or the balcony and talked. We
just talked about life, health, home repairs and grandkids. When he grew tired
he went to his bedroom to rest and I went outside to work in the garden or do some
cleaning.
When I returned, the house was as quiet as a shrine and I
walked from room to room with all my fond memories. The once- blazing but now the
cold fireplace was silent. The furniture, the electronic and musical items and
the kitchen sink that will always be synonymous with my mother were starring at
me. At the basement I stood at the workbench where Dad had taught me to repair
the furniture.
When Dad woke up, he asked me to bring him the wooden box I
had made for him from hardwood at my industrial arts class. He opened the lid
and one by one pulled out his most precious keepsakes.
Among them there was an old clock that my grand dad had
given him as twenty-first birthday gift. There were a few school certificates
that had distinctions engraved on them. And then there was one of his most
treasured possessions of all, his grand father’s silver wedding ring. He
described each one in detail and when he was done I put them back into the box
and closed the lid.
We were passing time and after dinner I cleared and washed
the dishes and retired in the family room. I summoned my nerve and asked my
father for a favour. Would he mind letting me interview him about his life? I
dreaded asking this because everyone knows that children do not ask for such
things until time is running out.
My Dad cheerfully agreed and for the next two hours he
talked and I listened as the video camera captured the stories of his life for
my children and theirs to come. His story depicted his childhood, his work
life, his community service and his family life. Even as he spoke, I felt that
he was giving me the greatest gift possible.
The next morning we were all up before the sun, even Mom,
who those days slept late. My flight waited to return me to my other life, the
life of a husband, a father and a wage earner. As children always must, I had
to leave.
In my family, men have never been demonstrative with their
feelings because while growing up, my father and I would not greet each other
with a hug or a kiss but with handshake.
We followed the rule that the love word was better shown than spoken but
on that morning, standing in the porch, his walking stick dangling by his side
Dad held out his arms to me.
“Dad,” I said, summoning the words I had said so seldom, “I
love you.”
He responded so quickly, so automatically that the words
just rushed out as if he had been waiting all those years for permission to
speak.
“I love you too, Raju (Beta),”
he said. My mother joined him too, “I love you heaps, Raju.”
Raju. This was my mother’s favourite word all along but my
Dad had not called me by that loving name since I was a little boy.
On my drive to the airport, I realized something. Something
big. There are hard trips home, but no wasted ones. So I have decided to make
more trips home and more frequently,” concluded Raj.
One day we all will be staring into the face of death so it
is only right and proper to keep saying ‘I love you’ to our loved ones with a
hug, a kiss and a solid embrace.
When my own mother became sick and was bed-ridden at age
seventy-four I could not be with her in the final hours because I was on
assignment but my wife kindly volunteered to go and be with her to care for her
in the final days. Within a fortnight my wife called me to say that the final
hour for my mother was near so I rushed to be at her bedside.
In the meantime I told my wife to tell my mother that “I
love her very much”. My expression of love was conveyed to my mother and I was
later told by my wife that my mother opened her eyes and gave her a smile
before she left this world. I still harbour regret in my chest that my mother
passed away a few hours before I could reach her.
This is life where there are multiple opportunities for
treasured times but we do meet regrets that keep hurting us. I have now
completed my seventy-five years of happy living amongst my loved ones and as
long as I live I would be satisfied with the love and affection that I have
been getting from my own four children and their families.
May God Bless Them All.
OUR
MOM AND DAD
They
never look for praises
They are never ones to boast
They just go on quietly working
For those they love the most.
Their dreams are seldom spoken
Their wants are very few
And most of the time their worries
Will go unspoken too.
They are there, as a firm foundation
Through all our storms of life
A sturdy hand to hold to
In times of stress and strife.
They’re our true friends to turn to
When times are good or bad
The
man and woman we call
Our loving
Mom and caring Dad.
It’s
one of our greatest blessings
When
they love and care for us
The
least we can say ‘I love you’
And
visit them without any fuss.
(RLP for mothers’ day 2015)
