I read somewhere that a person only grows up when they lose their parents. If this is true, both my brother and I grew up only last year. We became ADULT ORPHANS.

We are both very close in age; he is a year and a half younger than I, and we grew up almost like twins. We went to the same school, knew each other’s friends and even thought alike at times. Although he is more outgoing and carefree than I am, our shared childhood experiences bind us together, just as they do all siblings who grow up together.

Last year, both our parents passed away within three months of each other, and suddenly, as grandparents, we found ourselves grown up. We were probably the few people our age who still had both parents around for so long. Luckily, both parents were in good health till almost the last few months of their lives.

Since my brother and his family lived with my parents, he and his wife landed up being their primary care givers. It was hard for me to make my parents understand that my brother was also in his mid-sixties and couldn’t go up and down the staircase a hundred times a day just to get a mobile phone they’d forgotten. My mother whose energy was boundless couldn’t understand why I felt tired or didn’t want to push myself more.

In their eyes, we were always their children, even though we had grandchildren of our own!

Missing them

The last year has been hard for me to accept the fact that they are no more. My mum was the first person I spoke to every morning while both of us were on our morning walk. Needless to say, my morning walk has become irregular since she has passed. I’ve tried to replace my conversation with EMPIRE a podcast by Anita Anand and William Dalrymple. Needless to say, nothing can compare with a daily chat.

My Dad was my go-to Doctor because he was the only person who listened to my daily whines about my ‘health’. I have no one really to humour me these days because doctors are always short of time. I am a self-confessed hypochondriac and once wanted to follow in my dad’s footsteps. So every now and then, I try to figure out why something is going wrong and only my dad would patiently listen.

Of course, my parents had their faults – my father had a foul temper and he would literally have tantrums when things didn’t go his way.

And my mother would often put me on a guilt trip with her ‘poor me victim tales’ or stories about the success of other friends’ children or cousins.

LETTING GO

But I miss my interactions with them. For many months , they would appear in my dreams. The dreams would be bizarre but they always appeared to be reassuring me. Sometimes, of course, they would admonish me.

Oftentimes when I caught myself looking at myself in the mirror, I felt it was my mum who was smiling at me. And sometimes when I looked at my swollen ankles, I would think of my dad.

These fleeting moments would fill me with sorrow and I would actually feel a hollow in my stomach. But no tears would flow -just an inexplicable sadness would engulf me completely.

Earlier this year, I was visiting their home when, on our way out, there was a loud crash from their empty bedroom. My brother and I rushed upstairs to find wooden stand on which my mum kept her gods, in pieces. All the hooks were intact and there was no way it could have fallen. So what exactly happened ?

What was the message in this strange occurrence? Was it my parents’ final goodbye? Or, was it a message that they weren’t happy with what we were doing? Had we missed doing something that they wanted us to do?

Ours was never a family that believed in rituals so we never observed any of the practices that Hindus perform on the death of a person. My parents wouldn’t have wanted that either. But that nagging thought kept persisting- did they secretly want any rituals to be performed ?

I consulted a psychic and even visited a therapist. They both assured me that this was a part of the grieving process. Missing a person was normal. Grieving for them was also normal. Feelings of sadness were normal too .

In order to cope, I would call my brother from time to time and share memories we had of our parents. Only he and I could laugh about it.

Today, it is exactly a year since my father passed away, so I think it is finally time to let go and grow up.

So goodbye mum and dad .

I hope you are happy wherever you are.

Ciao

Unishta