How not to deal with 'Death'

 I know it’s been long since I wrote anything. Definitely not writer’s block. The reason why I write here is just to put it out there and for some time I couldn’t, because I don’t handle pain well. Well, to explain better, when something painful happens I go numb. I don’t react or go through the due course of a normal healing process. I simply shut down the inside of me.

October 5^th 2018 my mom passed away. She was just 65. I had recently got a job at a reputed college in the city, got admission for Ela in one of the best schools here and even had planned to moved into a new place closer to her school. On the night of 4^th October my mom called as I was packing up stuff and instead of talking to her I asked Ela to do that, which she did.

 I called my mom the next morning as  I went to check out the new place. This time she didn’t answer and I thought may she was still asleep as it was just around 8 am.

 I found a small temple nearby. I am not a fan of temples in the city, unless it is on top of a hill. But that morning I stepped into the temple and just sat there for some time. Later, I went home and dozed off as I had taken the day off and as I was pretty tired from the packing. By noon my mom called and I disconnected the call.

She called again and again, By the third time I was a little mad and wanted to go back to sleep. She called again. I knew I couldn’t sleep anymore (little did I know for many years to come) I answered the call and was confused as I heard a man’s voice on the other end. It was my cousin’s friend. He says Hi it’s me, his name. I said okay, a lot confused. He says your mom had passed away. I thought I didn’t hear him well and asked what…what…over and over again. Then I heard him.

 I remember crying a little bit screaming “MOM, MOM” It was for a few seconds. I calmly packed a bag, booked a cab, went to pick up Ela from school. When I went to the school Ela was so happy to see me. I told her we were going to Madurai. I still remember her big smile hearing the news. That’s when I tell her Vijaya passed away. Her face was frozen. She cried all the way to home in the cab. Home, Madurai. I did not feel anything. I was lost somewhere. After four hours we reached home. Saw my sister crying her eyes out sitting next to my dead mother, who was kept in an ice box. I did not want to see my mom that way and I didn’t.

I learnt that she had died may be early in the morning that day, while I was checking out the new house and was spending quiet time at the temple. My cousin’s friend had seen her lying on the floor by sometime near noon from the road, through her bed room’s window. He was suspicious and had come into the house. She had gone long time back. That’s when he had called me.

A husband, 3 daughters and 3 grand kids, but died alone.

But then, the house was filled with people, crying and crying. I didn’t like it a bit. I kept myself busy by going to the coffee shop and getting snacks and tea for the guests, then breakfast, lunch, dinner, whatever. I even spent a lot of time playing with the kids (of my many cousins) who had come down from different places. I was so okay. I couldn’t wait for the stupid rituals to be over.

I felt an unswallowable lump of a shit load of emotion when I saw my baby screaming my mom’s name with the never ending flow of tears from her eyes. I kept telling her that it was fine it was okay and that she was with us.

My mom was still kept in that fucking box. I think they were waiting for my other sister to come home. Don’t remember. It was night and I went to my mom’s room, slept in her bed. I was aware that she had just died there that day, by her bed on the floor. I felt nothing, just slept there peacefully.

The next day was the worst. ( I realise it, but honestly,the day after my mom’s death was the worst) The fucking horrible rituals! God I just wanted the whole thing to be over. The sad crowd in the house and the stupid strangers who were hired to do the rituals…the meaningless, bull shit rituals. My mom was carried out of the house, was kept on the road in front of it. With all the passers by on the road and the also sad, curious neighbors, the hired men giving instructions to us to carry a stupid pot with water, to go around my mom three times, to apply oil on her feet…it was all fucked up. Too many meaningless shit. All the daughters and the grand kids were even asked to walk to a nearby public pay toilet to take a bath (there were no bathrooms there!) Yes, that is what you should do. Your mom dies and you go to a fucking public toilet to take a bath.

May be ages ago it made sense to take a bath in the river after your loved one was carried away to be cremated. But to do that even now…idiots. I was an idiot too, to comply with that. I just wanted it to all be over.

So, after we took a nice, clean bath in the toilet, we had to walk all the way to home in wet clothes, with people on the road staring at us. There were all sad of course, to see an entire family wailing over their unspeakable loss.

I was very relieved. But still wanted all the relatives to leave. I wanted things to get back to normal again.

One of my sweetest aunts came to me and said so softly with lots of love and concern…Cry Skyla…let it out. I said I was fine with a smile on my face.

Ela and I came back home the next week. I went back to work, sent Ela to school. Everything seemed okay.

I started to feel something unpleasant. I couldn’t smile anymore, not at my colleagues whom I despised and not at my students whom I loved. I didn’t even feel like facing them. Anyway had to work, had to pay the damn bills. I remember once I even sent the entire class out to complete some group task, and I sat in the empty classroom thinking about running away. Didn’t know where though.

 It all went downhill from there. I lost interest in teaching, lost interest in going out or facing reality. But still didn’t feel anything and I couldn’t cry.

Weeks gone and months, I had to drink to cry and it felt great! It was very nice to cry thinking about her. A few tears but felt relieved a little.

I was (am)  so numb inside for long now. I did all my work though, did everything I needed to do everyday.

Last week, after two years, I consciously have stopped blocking thoughts about her. I still avoid seeing her picture.  Can’t do that. I know something’s wrong with me, but no idea what to do.

At least I could write about it now. May be there is hope for me.

I want to believe that.