Allow Me My Grief!

I have had about SIX 'friends' tell me what a good thing it is.
"What a relief it must be," said one.
"No more travelling, at least" said another.
"You don't have to worry about them any more."
"You don't have to keep calling to see how they are."
"Oh, so they were both past 90. So, . . . " (So that's okay!!???)
"You don't have to dread that phone call any more, . . ."
Etcetera, Etcetera, Etcetera!

Don't people THINK before they speak? I'm grieving, damn you! You don't say those things to someone that's just lost a loved one! You don't give out platitudes like that! Allow me to grieve. THEY WERE MY PARENTS! I've known them ALL MY LIFE! They were always there. And now they're not there any more!

HOW can it ever be a GOOD thing? How can it EVER be a RELIEF for me? I looked forward to seeing them on each trip to India. I longed and prayed for them to be there. I wanted to feel their arms about me just ONE more time, each time I came away. I always wanted another chance to tell them how very much I loved them.

No more travelling? Yes, that was one difficult part of it. But a small part, really, as I travelled to and fro out of choice and not because there were those 'emergencies'. Undoubtedly, I was always torn between wanting to stay with my husband, make sure he was okay on the one hand and wanting to be with my old parents, taking care of them, spending some precious hours with them, on the other. But, like I said, it was a choice. I was not obliged to. And Arup always encouraged me to go, never once reminding me of the expense.

"You don't have to worry about them any more"? It's almost as if they meant "bother", not "worry"!

What's so special or unusual about worrying about someone that lives far away? It's natural, I think. I worried about my old parents, just as I worry about my young daughter in far-away Melbourne, even though she is well and happy; just as I now worry about my younger sister because my parents had been living with her. She had been doing all the looking after and must find herself at a lose end, with the house so full of memories. I worry about my older sister too, who puts up a brave front but also misses them sorely.

Worry is natural! In their old age, our roles were reversed so dramatically. They became the children. Who does not worry about their children, even if they've just gone out to play?!!

As for the phone calls home, . . .  that's something I miss SO MUCH! Planning a time when Ma would be available to talk, undisturbed: Would she be resting? Would she be in the middle of a meal? Watching one of her favourite TV serials? I miss texting her every day: even if she did not always reply, I knew she knew I was thinking of her. Her replies got fewer and farther between as she grew weaker, but that didn't matter at all. What mattered was that I was able to text her. How I miss that!

I'm still trying to get used to how my phones lie idle. I was always so particular to keep them with me at all times, every moment by my side. - NOT because I was expecting "that dreaded call" but because I didn't want to miss it if she messaged me. I wanted to be able to reply AT ONCE. So often she would just wake up in the morning and just send off a little sms. It would be any time after 3:30 a.m., my time, but of course I never let her realize that! And because my phone was always near me, on my bedside table, I'd always reply as soon as I saw her message.

Don't I miss that?

And now, my phones are often left out in the living room, . . . I am not even so particular any more, about having them charged and ready all the time.

Small things, little things, so, so many of them, . . .

So, they were over 90! Does that mean I should have been ready - and willing! - to let them go? To me, they were still Daddy and Mummy, just as they had been all my life. I loved them. I respected them. They were my treasure, my wealth. I knew I had to lose them at some point in time. I knew they were ready to go. They WANTED to go. And because I loved them, I thought I was ready, willing, to let them go.

It was only when they were gone that I realized I was NOT ready; NEVER willing. I want them back! I want to feel my mother's arms holding me close, one more time, her soft kiss on my forehead. I want to hear her voice. I want to watch her as she watches her TV serials, - so intently! I want to see her. I want her back.

So don't give me any platitudes, please.

Let me be. Let me grieve.