one thousand eight hundred and twenty six days

this week has been a torturous obstacle course of pain for my soul.

even when you think you've cried away all the tears your eyes can possibly produce...there's more. as i type this, my eyes ache, my nose is raw, my head pounds. that's nothing, though. my heart feels a million times worse than all of that.

i've never had a good NYE. something horrific always happens- i get mugged, have knock-down drag-out fights with my bf as the ball drops blocks away, i'm trapped on a sub-standard flight after nightmarish delays and layovers, i have to bury my daddy...

:+:

december 31, 1998.

a day that shall live in infamy. i thought you broke my heart on december 23rd, when you went to the ICU, never to wake. i was in davis, 28 miles away. mom called. "come to the hospital, now."

click.

i made it to you in 20 minutes, daring the CHP to pull me over. they'd have to catch me, and that gigantic eight-valved mercedes you bought me first, motherfuckers. i parked in the first area that looked like a space and ran up four flights of stairs. burst in to the ICU. everything stretched in to slow motion as i stood there immobilised. nurses, doctors, medical assistants looking at me with pity and fear; they knew who i was. my mother had opened that hospital, trained more than half of the eyes that gazed at me so sorrowfully. one nurse, tears in her eyes pointed to the right. i don't remember walking up to that room. i do remember standing in the doorway, thinking that if i reversed my steps, ran down the stairs backwards, and sped back to davis at 100mph, i could still change things, make them different. rewind, right? my mother looked up at me with dull blankness flattening her face. i ignored her and took your other hand.

i kept vigil by your bed, avoiding food, water, sleep and cynical, perfunctory proclamations that you were "gone". they wanted to take you off of life support, and i calmly told them the same thing every single time; "if you do, then i will forever consider you his murderer." it's easy to scoff at people keeping loved ones on ventilators until it's your precious daddy hovering between life and death. no one would "unplug" that cord. not while i lived. "he has no chance at survival." thank you for your opinion, now get out. i want to be alone with my father. and frankly, he wants to be alone with me, since i'm the ONLY ONE not hatefully anticipating his death.

several times a day i would pass out from an exhaustion that i pray i never know ever again; an exhausted body is nothing compared to a spent heart. i pressed your feet constantly, the way the king's feet were tended to in "Mahabharat", the serial we watched in its entirety twice. when i did lose consciousness my hands were still clutching your feet, pressing them to my face, the smell of death ready-woven in to that hospital blanket. i used your shins as a pillow, and then you would kick me awake, the slightest stirring, but it was you, you moving again. my eyes would blaze with faith and invariably a doctor or nurse would be there to cluck at me pitifully. "that doesn't mean anything. he's moving but that doesn't mean he'll wake up. it's an involuntary spasm." my eyes would race from the messenger, kill the messenger for such blasphemy...my eyes would rush back to your face. mental telepathy. fuck them, daddy. what do they know? they are mortals. they can be wrong. "kick me again" i'd murmur. "again." i still believed.

december 29th, 1998 i was finally convinced to go home, four miles away, and shower. nurses had taken turns combing my long, wavy, tangled and neglected hair while i passed out. i wouldn't let them near me if i was awake, they disturbed my concentration, my absolute devotion to your face, your breathing, your heart rate. i never looked at a tv or movie screen with the absolute attention i gave your hospital monitors.
so i would occasionally sleep. and i'd wake up with my hair braided. i could not have cared less. i promised you that i would be gone for 20 minutes exactly; five minutes home, ten minute shower, five minutes back. i stood at the end of your bed, each hand wrapped around one of your feet. i bent over and touched my forehead to your toes. "don't go anywhere, daddy. i'll shut them up with this shower and i'll be right back." five minutes home, ten minute shower, five minutes back...

it was the only time i left your side.

five minutes home...one minute in the shower...a door opening...a blur outside the glass door that entombed me in my tub-- glass door engineer-you installed b/c i didn't want a shower curtain...my mother's voice...

"Latha."

she said nothing more. she didn't need to.

"oh god, no, why? i wasn't there. oh my god he was alone. he died alone. why did i come back here?"
i collapsed against tile, not feeling cold or soap scum, just feeling white pain. water. what do you do with water when your life is over?

i put on the darkest, ugliest sari i had. you loved me in indian clothes, told me i was born to wear them. if i was born to wear them, i would die in them too, and that is what i was going to do, without you. the last time you "saw" me, i'd be mummified in silk. i wouldn't find out until years later, that when you had gone to india just months before your death, you had come back with my wedding sari..."just in case". i had never decided on whether i would wear a white dress or kanjeevaram silk or both...you decided for me. i can see the conspiratorial wink you must have given Parthas and Sons owner, when you had them wrap up my future in scented tissue.

when i made it back to the hospital, tubes had been removed. the death blanket was gone. your mouth was open. it didn't look dignified. i tried to close it. it wouldn't shut. that was when i knew you were gone. and that was when i finally understood all of those unintentionally sepia-coloured pictures of my grandparent's funerals back home in Kerala. why they always had white linen tied around their faces. so that they wouldn't look like you.

december 31, 1998. we buried you on inopportune New Year's eve b/c the next available day was my birthday. i opted for my birthday, mom said no. i would hate New Year's eve passionately for the rest of my life. five years ago, one desecrated holiday would guarantee that, decisively.

five years ago, today, right now, i couldn't sleep. i had never delivered a eulogy before and i wasn't prepared. can you ever be prepared for that? ready to say farewell formally to your father in front of hundreds of people? i've given dozens of performances in my life and nothing, absolutely nothing prepares you for that walk up to a podium, that dull microphone, that mute crowd.

five years ago today, in nine hours a funeral liturgy commenced. an hour after that, my mother snapped and tried to throw herself in to a fresh wound in the earth, with my father. i actually had to throw ice water in her face to bring her back to reality. i felt like a bitch, not for drenching her, for bringing her back...to this.

five years ago today, i touched my daddy for the last time. i saw his face a final moment but it wasn't his face; in real life, he didn't wear make-up and his hair wasn't parted like that. eleventh hour indignities that couldn't hurt me because i was so numb.

five years ago today, a box containing my greatest ally, mentor and source of love was put twelve feet under ground, never to see light again. my heart was buried with it. i have never been the same since.

five years ago today, the world tipped slightly and i almost stumbled off, stiletto heels slipping on grass slick from tears, mine and the angel's...a muddy hill is no place for limousine shoes. i didn't care. i wasn't going to say good-bye to you and look ugly. the chanel sunglasses you secretly loved, b/c they reminded you of your beloved "jackie", they couldn't shield my already ravaged eyes from further torment. the bright san francisco sun couldn't burn hot enough to remove the braille from my arms. jesus, mohammed and krishna could've shown up and i wouldn't have noticed or cared unless they were preparing to resurrect you. my mind, my vicious, over-active mind conjured the same horrific thought over and over again; you are consummately alone. forever.

who's going to love you now?

who'd going to take your side? protect you? guide you with the wisdom of the ancients? cover you with your quilt when you sleep? fuss over your car? scream at you when you've been bad? cry inwardly for you when you've been had? gloat when you win? rail against the system/heaven/universe when you lose?

who's going to make you milky coffee every morning, pour it in to HIS stainless steel mug, (the mug no one is even allowed to wash, lest it somehow become polluted) and then painfully limp up the stairs despite the advancing decay of parkinson's disease to stubbornly present it to you, thus letting the smell of kappipalla be the world's sweetest alarm clock ever? who's going to impatiently mutter "finish it" and then grunt after you say "thank you, daddy"?

who's going to cook your dinner separately when your mother spitefully throws onions in the curry? who's going to tell you stories about your last name, ancestors, blood? who will buy the house in kottayam, near "best bakery", so that the errand boy can fetch your favourite pastries for continental breakfast every morning if necessary? who will walk you down the aisle? who will you look at when you make your victory speech when you eventually run and get elected? who will brag about you to friends and especially enemies on four continents? who will infuriate you like no other yet own your heart b/c it's a cardiac copy of his own?

who?

only you, daddy, only you.

:+:

daddy i love you, and i miss you more now than i did then.

i'm sorry i'm didn't go to law school.

i'm sorry i'm not married to a good syrian christian malayalee boy.

i'm sorry that the last time we talked on the phone, i hung up on you, b/c we fought.

i'm sorry i'm not the girl you dreamed i could be, prepared me to be, needed me to be.

most of all, i'm sorry i never got to say good-bye or thank you or i love you...

my hair is long now. i wear saris more often than ever. i'm not opposed to arranged marriages. i came home from new york and i rarely go out to party. i go to church more. every time i do, a candle is lit in front of the altar. it burns for a week, on the left side of the church, the side for the dead. i burn forever, on the left side of G-d, who obviously hates me a little because he took you away.

from the left and right sides of church, the choir sing;

may his memory be eternal.
everlasting be his memory.
may his memory be eternal...

...it deserves to be, for that is how long i will yearn for your love.

Comments

[dev]

I don't quite think any comment could really be on par with this last post, but after reading it, there wasn't any way that I could just NOT comment. I'm sorry for your loss.

At the same time, I think your father would be proud of who you are.

How could he not be?

Best of luck in the new year Anna.

-dev

[andrea]

wow. you brought tears to my eyes. I lost my father in 1996 and I regret that I never had that kind of love for him, that you so obviously had...have...for yours.

May he rest in peace and rise in glory.

[mars]

sadness.

[TJ]

Nobody will ever understand how deep your loss is. I know that because I share the same with my father- Infact that same 'slow' motion scenario and your hospital trip was something I had experienced. But I think it takes a lot to say what you have said. I'm sure he is smiling and is proud of you to see your heart the way it is. May you have a blessed year ahead of you, and memories from the years behind you, that will keep you smiling.

[your ally]

Anna, I am so sorry. There are no words, no movements, there is nothing that can comfort your loss. Your father loves you as fiercely as you love him. He did then and he does now. I believe that he believes in you. It is such a severe loss, and a permanent one. But Anna at least you live your life with so much passion. You feel things, you see things. You make his life all the more triumphant because of the way you live yours. I will light a candle for him, and one in hopes of peace for you.

[reshma]

Touched.

[Nikitha]

Nothing I say is going to comfort you. I know that. But if I could see you right now, I would've given you a huge hug! I am not partying tonight. I am going to the watch nite service at church. I will say a prayer for you and your family! May God bless you with his abundant mercy!
Love-
Nik

[You Are Not Alone]

Anna - there are so many people out here in cyberspace who care - I think we are all flattered that you opened up. Best wishes for a happy and healthy New Year.

[FluidCEO]

Lit a candle for your family at Notre Dame...

[anjali]

...and life goes on.

[amit]

hey anjali-
your shitty comments were egregious enough before-- but when someone writes about something like this...well, there's a special place in hell for assholes like you.

[Anjali is a Tool]

Anjali -

Given your penchant for moronic and "tough guy" comments, why don't you reveal who you really are so people can judge you appropriately - or are you too scared? Or are you enjoying the two minutes of attention you get every time the verbal diarrhea escapes your mouth? Either way, everyone who has to read your crap loses.

Tom

[MELFA]

Too often do I take my own father for granted, wondering when he will finally leave me alone...Thank you for perfectly depicting what a father's love means to someone who needed to open her eyes. I sometimes feel bothered by my own dad after egotistically deciding I didn't need so much parenting...but now gratefully see my blessing.

[ayse]

anna, I am very sorry for your loss..I have seen your comment on Flowerys flog..I am in tears now although my father is alive but I see that losing a person must be very heartbreaking.

[hater]

I was friendster surfing, somehow ended up on ur page, then this site. Of course the first thing I did was judge u. I'm a very critical person. I thought who is this girl, what's her problem, is she crazy, why is she so into herself? Last thing I thought I'd end up doing is write a comment, especially to something you've posted so long ago. I ended up right here, and somehow, when I was reading your story, I realized... I'm an idiot. I don't know u, ur life, ur pain... why should anyone be threatened by u sharing ur feelings, who u r. I don't know. I guess girls are this way, it's what keeps us down. We don't have the kind of comradery that guys take for granted. We're born haters. Initially what I reacted to is that u seem different from me, and then very much the same... If our paths had crossed, I think u either would have been my archnemesis, or wound up being a great friend? It's better this way because I don't know u at all, and I can freely comment. I think you're great. I think that people may hate on u, u may let ur insecurities get u down, but ur spirit is overwhelming and u'll be just fine. And what's that line from that movie? love means never having to say ur sorry. Let the feelings of guilt go, by now u may have. Ur dad's love for u is unconditional. U don't have to be sorry. If u live life to the fullest and u r happy, then that is all he needs, (by the way, law school is entirely overrated). I lose faith sometimes, I wonder about what happens after u die, I am afraid of losing a loved one, perhaps my greatest fear, and here u r, having faced and survived what I am almost certain I could not. Anyway, I know what I say is crap, it doesn't mean anything, but I just felt compelled to write. ur a "beautiful soul". Best of luck in life.

[Safia]

Dear Anna,

I'm still crying from reading about your loss. So many thoughts are running through my head right now, but I am at a complete loss for words.

I love my parents dearly, but I do not share such a great relationship with either one of them. How I long to share something like that with my mom or dad or both, yet I see how that would make a loss so much more painful and unbearable.

I wish you love, joy, happiness and all the best for your future. I hope I bump into you someday and recognise you from your photos so I can give you a hug (I don't mean that in any creepy way, just in case).
Take care.

[Gold Fever]

To love is a wonderful thing, be loved is another, though sometimes we ignore it. Your story wake me up, and may your father rest in peace!

[Geeta]

Anna-

I don't know why but your words about your father have touched me deeply. I've been sitting at the computer reading and tearing up uncontrollably. You have the gift of making people feel what you are feeling. So many of us feel the emotions you have shared but are unable to express them. Please keep writing....perhaps one day I may even get to read to read a novel written by you.

Since this time of year brings sad memories for you, I thought I'd take a moment to tell you how much I appreciated your writing and your love for your father.
Best of luck in 2006

[dh]

sixteen years back... i ran out on family... angry about nothing... didnt go back... didnt see folks for the next ten years... i dont know why... selfish, stupid... i've tried to make up... every way which i can... i really have... i've told them what they mean to me... everytime we say goodbye now... my old dad, you have become so old... he holds me tight like i used to clutch him ... and i dont want to let go... after those ten years when i saw him again... i did break down then ... why was he so old now... he seemed to understand and shushed me like old times... he was still my dad... if i can be half the man he is ... the little man with the thick glasses and the stooped shoulders... i will be a giant... thank you for sharing... the human touch... it feels better to know i'm not the only one who feels this way about his dad... and i'm sorry he was taken from you so abruptly...

[p kutty]

Three years later, and this still makes me weep.