Back to the future

I am leaving this evening to a place called home. I have been in India for six months minus ten days. I am going back with some satisfaction having served my parents who were counting their days, literally in their death beds when I first arrived. I did not want to extend their sufferings. I prayed for their demise with no sufferings. I did what any child would want to do- to keep them happy, cheerful, wanted and willing to care for in their last days. In short, I did what the duty calls.

As I am packing my bags, I am able to recall the moments as my thoughts zipped passed my mind- while flying to India on hearing that both my parents were admitted to a hospital. I thought it was my day of reckoning. I was ready to let them go. Having visited them three times a year for the past four to five years, I had seen my dad shed tears each time, not knowing whether he would see me again when I left. It is a gut wrenching moment as I bid bye, feeling helpless, not able to assure, sounding hollow in my words, wiping away my tears as my friends drove me to the airport. Words hard to come by, not spoken to during my trip to the airport, a silence that was uncomfortable and hard to live with was not an experience that I would want to recall.

I had other reasons to come to India. I thought it was my karma to be there for them during their last days, to take care of them, to give them comfort and to let them know that they are not alone. A future I forgot, a present of not my own making and a hope in my presence that gave my parents the strength to fight sounded like a fool’s errand.

Getting my parent’s place organized, micro managing their day to day lives, putting people in places to serve, satisfying their needs and the caregivers’ needs, taking hits from my mom who felt her independence was at stake when the truth was and is- “it is over, mom”. Everyday was a drama that unfolded with my mom in the main character- she never got tired of playing her role aided by her senility as people around her had to push themselves harder to catch up with her. It was no easy task but we managed, still trying to keep our sanity intact.

This visit helped to to do some introspection. I knew that I could survive without working for the rest of my life. But I understood what people termed as a higher calling. I was able to reach out to older people who were in my parent’s position but without the help they so richly deserve, help out my friends in need, talk to the commoner and give them a feeling that they mattered, brought some feeling of togetherness in my flats association, took the opportunities to bring some sunshine in peoples’ lives, and learned to accept my limitations.

As time went by, my expectations have grown thin, disappointments have lessened, wants have taken a back seat, living life to the fullest has taken shape, falls and hurt have dissipated only to be replaced by hope and contentment. A new beginning has come into focus and I have come to believe that life in this world is made according to one’s choosing, that happiness is within the grasp of one to reach, fulfillment is never in the achievements but in living up to the values, greatness comes in deeds, joy experienced in others smile, richness is not in stature but experienced in the life one leads and fulfillment of life’s purpose is not reflected by our materialistic possessions.

I am on my way and for once my thoughts go back to the future. This time I saw a smile on my parents' face. Tears were of thanking and not out of fear, blessings that were over pouring that I literally suffocated as I choked.