It’s been four years.
Four years ago on the 26th of May, my family lost
a battle to cancer. My father left or was rather forced to leave this world
with the deadly disease taking over his body completely.
It took me four years to even pen down my thoughts. Why am I
writing about something so personal? -this question plagued my mind each time I
thought about it. But I have the answer now – this is more about a celebration of
his life and the life-lessons that I want to share and less about my personal
tragedy.
I always took his existence for granted. To me, he was
invincible. When he was diagnosed with cancer initially, I just knew that he would
come out of it fine. I waited calmly outside the surgery room for 13 long
hours before they brought him out. Though it killed me to see him so frail and
covered with tubes after the grueling surgery, I pulled myself together with an
assurance that he will bounce back in no time. And he did. Even when the
disease relapsed, I was confident that he would pull through. Finally when I
was forced to face the reality, I had no time left. I barely made it to his
side and held hands during his last few moments of consciousness.
We always tend to undermine if not ignore the fact that
nothing about mortality is in our control. This moment is a reality, next is
just a dream. So, do not wait. Celebrate your life. Express your feelings. Love
openly. Enjoy. Hug your loved ones. Tell them how much you love them. Do what
your heart tells you to do. The lost chance could break you. I never got an
opportunity to tell him that he was the best ever and that he meant the world
to me. I never got a chance to give him a tight hug. I never got an opportunity
to give him all the happiness he deserved. How I wish I got one last chance!
A highly dignified acceptance of his disease, the consequent treatment, harsh truth of a near-approaching ending made me realize that something as deadly as cancer could only hurt his body and not touch his indomitable spirit. He never broke down even once in his last 3 years laden with super-strong medicines, unbearable pain and physical weakness. Even three days before his death when he sat down with us to eat breakfast for the last time, he was able to joke with me. I learnt then that I could either choose to give in to failures, disappointments and terrible phases that life threw at me or face it head-on and fight my way through as my father would have always wanted me to.
His death taught me that a relationship is not just about physical proximity. It is a matter of faith. The connection never ceases to exist. I might not see him, but he is around. I hear him deep within whenever I wish to. I feel the strength of his hands supporting me when I am in crisis. This faith keeps me going. This belief enables me to be stronger and face what this life has for me in store.
Few months after his death, I read a beautiful eulogy about him that said “we will not hear the gruff voice or see the rough-looking exterior anymore but one can hardly forget the soft heart that beat within.” That sort of summed up his life. He always went out of his way to help others. For all that he had done in as many years, we were offered unconditional help and support by people who knew him after his passing away. Strong values, firebrand attitude, immense courage, few but sharp words, amazing sense of humor, generosity, boundless love for family/friends and of course the rare but handsome smile! As much as people who know me well may disagree, I prefer to believe he left all that behind with me including the smile J.
Today as we get ready to do the rites on his anniversary, I
know for a fact that he is with us. We do not need a specific day to remember
him for he is always in our thoughts and lives.
