Death

Death is inevitable. We know it will happen at some point to each one of us. Yet, it is never easy when a loved one dies, regardless of how old that person is. My grandfather had been diagnosed with lung cancer two years ago, during which time I went to spend time with him. Recently, his condition deteriorated so rapidly, that the entire family became worried that he was reaching the end. After the doctor's diagnosis, we were informed that he truly did not have much time left to live. My mother decided to work from India, and took off immediately. One by one, my uncles took turns flying to Chennai to spend time with my grandfather.

I desperately wanted to go, but was not sure if I would be able to. My last final exam was on Friday, May 12. Still, my ticket had not been booked. My father told me he would talk to our travel agent and find out what would be best, and if there was any way I could go to India at all.

Saturday May 13, I packed up everything in my little studio apartment at school, and by noon I was out. By that time, it seemed like I had a flight the next day with Air India, and would pick up my ticket when I checked in my luggage.

I arrived in Madras on Tuesday, May 16 (Monday night US eastern time). It was a fairly good flight, considering it's not all the time you are offered an internship when crossing through time zones.

As I entered my home in Nugambakkam, my mother warned me that my grandfather was in a condition that I could not imagine, and not to act shocked when I entered his room. I opened the door, and it was then I realized that her warning was not warning enough. My grandfather sat on his bed waiting for me to arrive. Inside, he was the same person, but on the outside, there was barely anything left of him. It tore me apart to see him the way he was.

"Are you shocked to see me this way? I look very bad, don't I?" he asked me.

"No thaatha, you look fine. You will be better soon," I replied, knowing fully well it was a lie.

That was the last day my grandfather had the energy to speak in full sentences. It was the last day he spoke without fully slurring his speech. It was the last day he looked as "healthy" as he did, as strange as that sounds. His condition deteriorated dramatically each day I was there from the day I arrived. We all knew the end was near.

Sunday morning, May 28, 4:00am: it was my paati's (grandmother's) 70th birthday. It was also the morning my thaatha passed away. At the age of 82, he left us. He had told us he would be leaving us that day, and that Lord Rama had told him He would be coming to get him. Nobody knew what to think at that point. But, as my grandfather said, he passed away.

I had never watched death before. To see a person while he is alive, and watch the slow, painful death he experienced until there is no life left in him...it is an experience I would never wish to experience again. The body stayed in our house until Tuesday morning, in a refrigerated glass coffin. Everytime we passed through the hall, there my thaatha was, peacefully sleeping. He seriously looked as though he was just sleeping. I would sit in front of the coffin, almost expecting him to wake up. But he didn't.

The morning of the funeral was the hardest morning of my life. I don't wish to discuss it, but I know it is a morning I will remember every detail of for the rest of my life.

I miss him...he was one of the few people in my life who I had more respect for than I could ever hope to express. He was intelligent and reasonable most of the time, and someone who had done so much for so many people. It showed how much people loved and respected him, with the number of people who flew into Madras and took buses and trains from all over India to come in time to see his body and pay their last respects. I miss him so much, and it is hard to come to the realization that he will no longer be here to witness all the turning points in our lives.

I keep asking myself if I made mistakes by not telling him certain things I know he wanted to hear, or doing things I know he would have wanted me to do. I suppose everybody goes through something of the sort when somebody so close to them passes on.

Though I wish he hadn't died, I force myself to remember the suffering I watched him endure in order to convince myself that dying when he did, was the best thing that could have happened to him. He no longer has to experience the pain and suffering he experienced for so long.

Though I never said this to you once when you were alive, I love you very much thaatha, and I know I will remember everything you taught me from the day I was born for the rest of my life.