My dad passed when he was 90 and I ,his youngest am 49 years old.I had an unusual journey this season.The covid pandemic rages on.The government seems to be see-sawing between closing and opening the lockdown.In the meantime I could spend three whole months with my family.It was a sort of time we have never had the opportunity to spend since our childhood.We have been away in boarding schools ,colleges and our work places with short spells during vacation at home.Our father taught us a lot of things about the bird and the bees.My sister and I often wondered to ourselves what a blessed time it had been with parents understanding the nature which has been given to us in bountiful by the Lord who cares.
Less than a week after I left home,my dad fell ill and passed away.With the strict covid rules I had just finished a week of quarantine in my workplace and it was time for me to pack my bags again homeward bound .My dad was ill.The strict quarantine rule in Sikkim made it mandatory that I stay in a government allocated place for atleast a week or more till I had cleared two different covid tests.One a rapid test at the onset and the other a PCR in the end before I would be released.
The first day of my quarantine was spent running around for my rapid test.I also had to make the decision about dad’s medical management over the phone.He went into rapid atrial fibrillation from midnight and the cardiologist had suggested putting him into the ICU.I was not too keen for him to go to the ICU where he would be alone without family members or to have a cardio-pulmonary resuscitation.My brother called up to let me know that a good cardiologist from Escorts in Delhi was in town and my dad would be under him so I agreed.
Towards five in the evening I was back in my room and then the Lord took me through a deep time of worship where in my mind ,things started falling in place.My one worry was that he would be alone in the ICU,I got the assurance he is not ,and then I began to be reminded of my father’s ministry through a UESI family who was leading a Sunday service in the facebook.At the end of the worship and the church I had a deep peace that my Dad was in Jesus’ care and was not ours to hold onto but a child of God.Just as I lay in that haze my cousin called to let me know that my father passed away.I did not expect it because he was actually better was what I was told but I was at absolute peace.
When he finally arrested my sibling and a sister-in-law was with him.My quarantine had just begun so from the confines of my hotel room I talked my way through with my siblings,with my mother,with my aunts,my cousins through the funeral.I saw the funeral online in parts.I had had a spiritual closure of sort .Even after I got released from quarantine I was away in a cottage by myself for the next fifteen days for my mother’s safety’s sake.
The time of quarantine was a luxury which my mother or my siblings at home did not get.In the confines of my hotel room and the cottage I had the luxury to weep,to bawl for a father who just could not bear to see any of his children cry,and to spend much time with the Lord.
Once at home I spent most of the time shadowing my mother,spending time with my siblings and the three sprightly children who are with us this season for their online learning,teaching them bible stories and vocabulary,doing gardening,cooking ,weaving,weeping and worshipping.
Now that I am back in the hospital I continue to keep my eyes and ears open to see how my mother is coping.I took the helicopter from Gangtok to Siliguri,my first .Erratic weather made things unpredictable right till the copter took off.At one point sitting by the helipad on a bright sunny morning I felt drops of rain fall on me.Even as I prayed a host of white pigions flew in from somewhere and sat on the ledge of the roof and I felt strangely assured.My only other travel companion was Bhaichung Bhutia the illustrious Sikkim footballer who was telling me how unpredictable the method of travel was and he had had to return many times due to last minute cancellation due to the weather.
Apart from a very transient agoraphobia at the thought how vulnerable we were it was a glorious ride with some beautiful view.The six hours tedious road journey was shortened to half an hour and the cost was the same if I had booked a taxi.My airline tickets got cancelled all the way and had to be rebooked but it was all in good stead because I had to stop in Delhi and I could meet up with my sister and her lovely family.Preciousness of ‘family ‘hits you in a profound way during times like these.
Travelling back to Varanasi I would suddenly find myself weeping behind my mask.Even as I joined back I went for a rapid test to the government centre and the lab technician ,a polite man suddenly bellowed ,Father’s name?Even as I added ‘late’ to my dad’s name I started weeping.
A friend of mine called me up after almost twenty five years.We did MBBS together .She said something which just stuck to my mind,’One can never get over a loss of one’s parent’.
I suppose she is right but I don’t know as yet.
The last time I left home I had left behind an absolutely healthy dad and that was the father I had in my mind’s eye.This time when I went home he was not there just bits and pieces of small things ,a reminder of the things he did daily to make our lives easier.
Since the last four days or so I have been here back in the hospital, I have been dreaming of him every night and it is not a normal dream.The first night ,I saw him in his sick bed delirious.I was trying to asses his sensorium.
The second night I saw his funeral and his body lying in the coffin and I had the privellage to see his body close,to touch him.The third night I saw his body again but this time,buried in the ground.
Dr Rajah,a psychiatrist colleague ,often used to stress the importance of closure when we mourn.I wonder if this is the physical closure I am getting.
Aeons ago,one man of God who had been a guest in our home and was leaving after finishing his ministry work,had prophesied while praying the final prayer that my father would live to be ninety.A robust youth ,might have been in his fifties then ,it looked like ages away.My father remembered though and so over the last year has often reminded us about that prophecy.
I am grateful to God for my father who was a good father,I am thankful to the Lord for His Hand of Grace we are experiencing as a family especially with regards to my mother every day but most importantly for the process of grieving where I continue to be mystified by so many things which are unexplainable.
After my dad’s passing ,in my mind’s eye I always saw the lord with His sleeve folded up in both hands, present and standing , in the goings and comings around us.
With our eyes fixed on our Master who continues to stand with us wherever we are,walking with us in this unusual walk, we move forward, holding on to his robe.We know our final destination and He is our direction.
To Him,Lord Jesus Christ , be all glory ,honour and praise.
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