Showers of Blessings

There are many things in life for which I feel grateful and blessed, but last month I got 3 important ones all at once:

1. I completed my MBA dissertation and so can pursue life with all joy and enthusiasm and never ever again consider taking up academics ever AGAIN (until next time of course).
2. My in-laws have finally accepted our marriage and have come to Hyderabad to live with us.
3. My paternal grandmother passed away.

The first blessing has been talked about so much that even I am bored with it, on the second one I have TOO much to say and so have chosen to remain silent (but happy), so it'll have to be the third one that I talk about today - it's a goodbye I should have said in person.

If you've read one of my previous posts about my grandmother, you'll know that she wasn't one to give up on life, or to let life give up on HER that easily. It's so easy to talk good of those who are already gone, but like most Scorpio women I know, you gotta love em like hell in order to survive their stings. If you don't love them, you just can't be bothered to put up with them. There are two things that I genuinely regret when it comes to my grandma, and neither of them have to do with the fact that I didn't go to see her even once after I got married.

One very big regret is that I feel I did not try hard enough to get her to my wedding from Salem to Trivandrum. The reason why it was held in Trivandrum was so that my mother's parents could be there. The journey was too long and arduous for her to take. She was very weak and fragile and no one was willing to risk it. That was 6 months ago and on hindsight I feel it would have been worth the risk if she could have seen her first grand child get married. Because of the complications of our wedding at the time, I had gone to see her and received her blessings the week before the wedding. Then for 6 months we promised her we'd visit but it never happened. The reasons as to WHY we didn't seemed very important at the time but now they seem quite irrelevant. I wanted to go see her with my husband for the first time, and foolishly, I assumed she'd be around forever. We then decided to see her on the Independence Day weekend but on 27th July my aunt called and told me to not wait any longer as she's quite serious and was asking to see me. We took that news serious enough to immediately book a flight from Hyderabad to Coimbatore and then catch a bus to Salem from there, but not serious enough to feel any worry. Baby had done this before - and for this same reason my aunt didn't even bother to tell my Dad or his siblings because every time she did, the sons came running, Baby miraculously recovered, and random people would pass a comment that there was no need to make such a fuss and make others come from so far. So my better half and I jumped on our flight the very next day (I had only just met my in-laws 2 days before) and we were pretty excited - this was our first trip after our wedding. We laughed and acted silly and took goofy pics on the plane. We landed in Coimbatore and my phone started buzzing like crazy with msgs pouring in. I called my cousin and was told that Baby was gone. We had missed her by 3.5 hours. And so I say again, I wouldn't have minded if God had spared her 6 months of suffering and I had just some how taken her to be at my wedding. I know she wanted to be there badly. And I say this because I sure as hell wouldn't want to prolong my life if I cannot partake in the simple pleasures and if I am not in a position to make such a decision I am counting on my loved ones to do it for me, even with death as a possible risk. That's what living is all about. We cling to people and are scared to lose them but they might have the quality of life equivalent to that of a zombie! We cling to them for our own selfish purposes. Not because living a little longer does anything for them. Perhaps anger is a better word - regret doesn't quite cover it.

The church where my grandparents married in Vypeen, Cochin

My second deep regret is one that I have no control over - I wish I had been with her in my teen years so I could have learned cooking from her. I don't know if I WOULD have at that age. It's highly unlikely as we would have clashed. We're both very spirited and bossy in nature. When my parents left me under her guardianship ten years ago, I never quite felt I could even have a relationship with her. Perhaps I should be grateful for what I did have - had I continued my studies in South Africa our relationship would have been superficial and meaningless. But when I hear my father and my uncles talk about her cooking, I feel like I lost out on something that was my right. A lesson she should have passed on to me. One that is now lost as she has taken that talent with her. There's no recipe written down but many of the dishes are traditional Kerala cuisine that people do not even make in their homes today.

It broke my heart to see my uncle, aunt and their two children trying to contain their sorrow - they were the ones who looked after her these past 14 years - their lives have known nothing more than the simple act of coming home after work or school and going straight to her room to talk to her. When Baby died, her dog Jack (a Spitz mix) didn't eat for days and then ended up with severe vomitting and dehydration. After her funeral we let him into the house and the normally spirited creature walked in somberly and went straight to her room, sniffing her pillows, bed, the bathroom. His loss was the most visible. We held onto her for 2 days so Dad could reach from SA and see her one last time and then we sent her off in grand style. Right when we were about to start the funeral the heavens opened and the there was the greatest storm I had seen in ages. Yes, one may wonder isn't it to be expected during the monsoon season. But it was only cloudy days before and after her death. It was only during the funeral that the downpour began. I took that to be a very good sign. Though I know deep down she doesn't hold it against me, I can still hear her voice clearly in my head asking me why I have not yet come to visit her. And while family members continuously recounted her last moments to mourners, I was constantly reminded that it was me she asked to see - some looked at me reproachfully, others looked with pity. I feel the loss but not the sorrow - I know she's up there with my grandfather, which is where she's always wanted to be. In my darkest moments, I console myself with the fact that I was there with her celebrating her life and if I didn't get to say goodbye it is because I believe that she has not quite left me...