Just because I don't say it, acknowledge it publicly doesn't mean that these demons don't eat me.
My fathers' elder brother died at the age of 48. He died on June 26, 2003. I was just about 16. He was the best bade papa ever. My childhood was mostly spent at his house, because he had a daughter who was my age. She was 5 months younger to me, but we were inseparable, often called as twins. We had the same hair, wore the same clothes, and till we hit puberty, we had similar builts as well. Chubby.
She committed suicide almost 11 months after he died. We were expecting our 12th results at that point in time. I had given an entrance exam on that day and as a matter of fact she was to come and spend the night at our house that night. She did not turn up. She said that she had things to do. From what I have heard, every thing was normal till there was some argument and then she went into her room and hung herself from the fan. But I know that she was depressed. She was inconsolable after her father's death. I was not particularly available during that time. Studies you see.
In case you are wondering, a part of me does blame myself for not being there. For not recognizing the signs and yes even for a death.
I saw her the next morning. Lying in the hospital. In a vegetative state. On a ventilator. I had told my father that day that I was willing to give away my life if that is required to keep her just alive.
She was declared dead a day or two later.
Her birthday is on January 25 and her father's on January 26. She would have turned 29 this year. He would have been 61.
We, me, are still reconciling with the deaths of these two people, which broke us. Broke the family, broke our spirits, and changed everything. You know why?
Because, my darling bade papa just refused to take his medicines. He decided not make the minor changes that were required in order to control his diabetes. Diabetes, like it is widely known cannot be cured. You have to take your medicines, have some control on your diet and include about 30 minutes of walking. But he would not budge.
We told him. We pleaded with him. We cried. We prodded. Even got intervention. But nothing helped. he continued to stubbornly not follow the doctor's orders. And in the end, he suffered for 1.5 months in an ICU undergoing dialysis and left us all, with an empty space that hurts when I see the old pictures, remember the Birthdays, the anniversaries and them missing.
Sleep that refuses to come during those phases. The uneasiness of loss, that has happened, and the one that may happen.
It is the pain that no one will understand, because each one of us has their own memories and pain. My Bua, who his fraternal twin, would never feel whole again (that is a twin thing), my father doesn't have an elder brother to call his own... I lost my own twin, my best friend, my soul mate and the only other person apart from the husband who knew all my secrets. The husband still doesn't know me that much.
All this happened, because one person decided that the rest were all fools.
And then, there is also a phrase, that history does repeat itself, and I see the other half of my soul being ripped away because of the same effortless jaunting.
If my past haunts me, that is because the present is imitating my past. And, this time, I will break, never to recover.
My fathers' elder brother died at the age of 48. He died on June 26, 2003. I was just about 16. He was the best bade papa ever. My childhood was mostly spent at his house, because he had a daughter who was my age. She was 5 months younger to me, but we were inseparable, often called as twins. We had the same hair, wore the same clothes, and till we hit puberty, we had similar builts as well. Chubby.
She committed suicide almost 11 months after he died. We were expecting our 12th results at that point in time. I had given an entrance exam on that day and as a matter of fact she was to come and spend the night at our house that night. She did not turn up. She said that she had things to do. From what I have heard, every thing was normal till there was some argument and then she went into her room and hung herself from the fan. But I know that she was depressed. She was inconsolable after her father's death. I was not particularly available during that time. Studies you see.
In case you are wondering, a part of me does blame myself for not being there. For not recognizing the signs and yes even for a death.
I saw her the next morning. Lying in the hospital. In a vegetative state. On a ventilator. I had told my father that day that I was willing to give away my life if that is required to keep her just alive.
She was declared dead a day or two later.
Her birthday is on January 25 and her father's on January 26. She would have turned 29 this year. He would have been 61.
We, me, are still reconciling with the deaths of these two people, which broke us. Broke the family, broke our spirits, and changed everything. You know why?
Because, my darling bade papa just refused to take his medicines. He decided not make the minor changes that were required in order to control his diabetes. Diabetes, like it is widely known cannot be cured. You have to take your medicines, have some control on your diet and include about 30 minutes of walking. But he would not budge.
We told him. We pleaded with him. We cried. We prodded. Even got intervention. But nothing helped. he continued to stubbornly not follow the doctor's orders. And in the end, he suffered for 1.5 months in an ICU undergoing dialysis and left us all, with an empty space that hurts when I see the old pictures, remember the Birthdays, the anniversaries and them missing.
Sleep that refuses to come during those phases. The uneasiness of loss, that has happened, and the one that may happen.
It is the pain that no one will understand, because each one of us has their own memories and pain. My Bua, who his fraternal twin, would never feel whole again (that is a twin thing), my father doesn't have an elder brother to call his own... I lost my own twin, my best friend, my soul mate and the only other person apart from the husband who knew all my secrets. The husband still doesn't know me that much.
All this happened, because one person decided that the rest were all fools.
And then, there is also a phrase, that history does repeat itself, and I see the other half of my soul being ripped away because of the same effortless jaunting.
If my past haunts me, that is because the present is imitating my past. And, this time, I will break, never to recover.
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