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As I stood
waiting with Shanthan and the rest of my family members to collect Appa’s ashes
the next day we had cremated him, memories of my last conversation with him
came flooding my mind against my will.
At 12.20pm on
Thursday, I received a call from the nurses’ station in HDU informing me that
they were going to transfer Appa to ICU. I rushed in with Uncle Visvan and when
I saw Appa, my heart sank. He didn’t look good at all. I asked him how he was
feeling and he shook his head. I turned
to ask the nurses some questions and I saw Uncle Visvan stroking his hair. I
glanced at the monitor and his vital signs looked below normal. I asked him
again, ‘Appa, how are you feeling?’ to which he replied softly while looking at
me directly ‘I don’t feel good at all’. Seconds later, his face turned red, he
let out a loud yawn and passed out.
I froze as
though my blood chilled me from the inside and I remember thinking that my Appa
is gone. I just stood there for a moment unable to react or even help him and
was feeling absolutely useless. The doctors and nurses rushed to him and
immediately gave him a cardiac massage. Uncle Visvan pulled me aside and I
remembered a staff nurse telling me to call the rest of the family members who
were waiting at the lounge to go to the meeting room so the doctor could speak
to them.
I walked to them
in trance and told them where to wait. In the background, I could hear Shamala
and Amma crying while in my head I kept pleading, ‘Appa, please don’t go, not
yet’. Minutes later, which felt like the longest moment of my life, the nurse
called me back to the room and the doctors explained that Appa was intubated
and had to be rushed to the ICU. I looked over at Appa, his eyes were closed
and I thought again, ‘Will I ever speak to him again? I need to tell him that I
love him or at least something more.
My feelings were
on a roller coaster ride for the next 24 hours. The family support was in full
force. Although I was talking to them and responding to the thousands of
messages and phone calls, the last look Appa gave me kept playing in my mind
over and over again. I went home to take a quick shower and when I looked at my
child, I felt a profound sadness that Appa would not be able to spend more time
with her as he did with Shivaran.
I did say that I
loved him at the CCU and always will and promised to take care of Amma and also
strive to make him proud. I told him to forgive me for all my wrong doings and
I kept on talking to him just to keep the awful memory of how he last looked at
me at bay. My heart was breaking into a million pieces. Although I am now a
family man myself, I still needed my Appa and I wasn’t prepared to let him go. Appa
has done so much for me and one last thing he did was he didn’t make me
the person to inform my family that he
was no longer with us and managed to stay on for another day so everyone could
say their goodbyes.
The next few
days passed by in blur and with so much of sadness. I was so lost. I just went
through the motion of doing what was supposed to be done until the day we
collected his ashes. I didn’t know how to comfort Amma who took care of dad
like no one else could ever do as he was her world and of course he took very
good care of her as well.
I insisted on
driving. I wanted to drive Appa for one last time. Shanthan held the urn
containing what’s left of Appa and I drove the ‘three’ of us towards the
seaside to conclude the ceremony. While one hand was at the wheel, I touched
the urn with the other. I know Shanthan was far away with his thoughts.
Memories of car rides with Appa came to me as well as the tears. I played his
favourite song on the radio, the one I remember him drumming his fingers to its
tune. Without us knowing, we were approaching towards Klebang and memories of
our younger days flashed through my
mind. Then came” Taman Muhibah” the place we lived most of our lives together.
Shanthan and I thought we should drive him home for one last time. The car
cruised silently into the lane leading to our house and the grim realization
hit me. Appa is no longer with us.
At the beach, I
saw Shamala breaking down at the sight of the urn and we three huddled around
Appa for the last time. The mighty man we call Appa has been reduced to ashes
and it broke our hearts to do the rightful thing a Hindu should do, to release
‘him’ into the water. For a while, time stood still, happy memories of my
childhood and visions of Appa smiling happily at me sprang to mind. I know he
will always be right next to me and nagging me as he usually does.
I can never ask
for a better person than Appa. He was everything for me like how he was for Shamala
and Shanthan and also his lovely wife. He treated each of his children equally
yet differently. He understood I was not book smart like Shanthan and Shamala
as he cultivated my strengths in being street smart. He knew I was keen on
sports and encouraged me to pursue it instead of pressuring me to be a
Profesional. Never once he compared my achievements with my siblings and for
that I am eternally grateful as he allowed me to grow into the person I am with
his and Amma’s love,support and understanding.
My wish now is
to be the kind of Appa he was to me, to my daughter and if I can be a fraction
of what he was, I would count myself as successful.
Thank you Appa
for loving me and I will always love you.
Your Son,
Suren
The little memorial corner at our house
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