coming to terms – year two

Another year has gone by. I miss her. A lot. My daughter misses her. A lot.

Suffice to say, Mr. Lump in the Throat, makes regular appearances (just this morning I was putting away her shoes into boxes and……) .  At times, the emotional brain threatens to breakthrough to the surface but the firm hand of the rational brain quickly intervenes to prevent  any visible overtures. Some nights, I wake up with a startle. I have images of her moving about hale and hearty, and then suddenly something in my head is screaming “she is dead! gone! ” incredulously. I seem to be asking myself “Do you understand what that means?”  I toss and turn for a while till this subsides and I fall back into sleep. At other times, the events and experience feel unreal. The brain conjures up the image of a loved one being devoured by a beast against which you are powerless. Even now, thinking about what happened is very debilitating and I have to quickly divert to other thoughts to escape this local minima. Social conversations and jokes about wives take on a very different hue given the realization that you are not part of that group any more. Observing my own behavior more recently, I have wondered whether deep in the recesses there is a sliver of depression. I say this because of my consumption habits of late[ there is some evidence for this link].

But the bigger story over the past year is my daughter’s coming to terms and recent moment of catharsis.

Grief counselors may call it denial. Psychiatrists may have to refer the DSM manual to classify this behavior. The fact is, I still wear my wedding ring.  Strange as it may be to the outside world, wearing the ring has offered me an unexpected benefit : a window into my daughter’s mind. What I have repeatedly noticed is the following: on shopping trips to say Ikea or the mall, she will hold my hand. After a while, she will run her fingers over the ring and feel it.  She assumes that I am not noticing her do it.  In my mind, I think, much as she loves me, she’d rather be with her mom on these trips. My daughter also does this after family events.  She did this a lot during our recent trip to Las Vegas as if to say “I wish you were here mom”.

After 2 years, my daughter will now look at a picture of Lechi (my wife). But it is still highly emotional and prompts an immediate deluge of tears. For Mother’s day she wrote a beautiful poem using me as proxy for mom which I have published elsewhere on these pages. When Father’s day was approaching, I was dismissive but she told me that this was the only thing she could celebrate (I could feel the disappointment in her voice as she uttered this).  She has also been a mirror for my own behavior picking up that I am not smiling much and tries to cheer me up or finds ways to make me laugh.

The approaching month of July and August were a source of stress for her, as she constantly requested me to not remind her of the special dates (birth and death anniversary are just days apart). In fact, she was fine until just a few days before thinking a lot about mom, asking clarifying questions and showing not much emotion. A conversation with one of my wife’s sister’s seemed to have thrown open the floodgates. For two days and nights, it was a real emotional coaster as she decided to confront the reality of mom’s death, asking questions about what Lechi said to me about her, how much did she love her, what happened, details around her illness. Did you have a funeral? I[my daughter] was mean for not going to see her [at the funeral]. She was upset to learn about the cremation and wanted to know details. She asked me did she know she was going to die. She also asked me not to lie about this again. Did she cry when she knew she was going to die? She did so much for me [fed me, played with me, went to preschool]. My daughter did tell me that I should never remarry. It was tearing me up inside to watch her body language and facial expressions including her bouts of deep emotion laden crying (her eyes were literally bloodshot). I was also welling up inside as I was patiently answering her many questions. She did notice that my eyes were filled with tears but there was no outburst. During this process, the things she said were so profound that it was clear indication that she was making adjustments to her worldview. Brave and strong was how she described herself. She opined that mom’s passing felt like a glass sculpture that had just shattered. She felt in Life – there should be no sickness. In the same breath, she blamed me for what happened and then almost immediately apologized. She even rationalized that maybe Death is a good thing. Because of it she had met several interesting people (Jamie a friend, her school counselors etc.,) Of the counselors, she said their livelihood depends on people dying! She wanted to know how thinking about the good times makes one happy? I also shared with her that my wife and I had discussed taking walks together during retirement. My daughter immediately said to me “Heaven as a retirement home is not a place I can visit.” Deep indeed!  She was worried about me and promised to take walks with me in lieu of mom. How sweet! Clearly, she was thinking about the many ramifications and trying to connect the dots. She has set for herself the professional goal of becoming a pediatrician or a counselor.

This was a very important and much needed exchange. Post this, I have seen her carry herself as if a significant weight had been lifted of her shoulders.

But then, she was feeling the ring on a recent visit to Las Vegas. During a show – KA(Cirque de Soleil), the opening music had the power to stir emotions, and she leaned over to me and said she was sad. I asked why and she said because of you know who [thats how she refers to mom on many occasions].  But subsequently, her mood quickly picked up and she enjoyed the show. We also toured the Grand Canyon in a helicopter. It was breathtaking. That night, my wife was in my dreams. In the dream, she had come back after a long absence. I was so excited to have her back. I had so many questions to ask her. How had she been? What had happened in the intervening time…….It felt like nothing else mattered now that she was back…..only to realize it was a dream.

This I have figured is going to be the new normal as Father Time works assiduously to blunt the edges of these emotions. But we will always miss her. A lot.

Scars run deep

I had been having trouble with my bite for the past few weeks and it did not seem like it was going away anytime soon.  The symptoms all pointed to some variant of TMJ.  For something like this, your consulting options are your PCP, dentist or a TMJ specialist.  I decided to visit my PCP. I was able to get an appointment right away.  It was a fairly routine visit. We exchanged pleasantries. I then explained my problem. She examined my jaw, felt around for any glands, and found nothing amiss. Her suggested course of action for me was: cold presses as many times as possible during the day and potentially some over the counter medication to help with the inflammation.  She also thought it would be a good idea for me to visit my dentist too and get a second look. I thanked her and was on my way. I didn’t think much of it and filed it away as a very routine visit with the doctor.

I did the usual things for the remainder of the day, read before retiring for the night. In the middle of the night, I woke up, startled.  I just had a dream. The setting for the dream was a hospital. There were three people in a room. My wife lay on the bed, resting, and recovering from a fresh surgery.  Just out of earshot, I am having a conversation with her doctor. Although he has removed the tumor, he says another one has just grown. Just as he is describing this, I look towards my wife and I see even more tumors appear, spontaneously. She doesn’t know any of this yet. I start to dread what is in store for her, thinking about the painful surgeries to follow and the torturous recovery and follow ups she has to endure. I think this is just not fair. That’s when I woke up. A great relief came over me as soon as I realized that it was a dream and she would be spared the agony.

I don’t remember too many dreams since my wife’s passing that involve her. What was particularly striking about this dream was its proximity to my own hospital visit. I least expected it, but there it is, the subconscious processing the day’s events. As I reflected on it, it was a stark reminder of the stressful times we had been together, the intense pain and suffering she had endured, and I as a caregiver, had witnessed. It also reminded me why, at that time, I had made peace with the idea of letting her go.

The empathy for another’s suffering and the intensity of grief we feel for the loss of someone dear, is a uniquely human trait.  The scars of a traumatic event run very deep indeed.

Some observations

The past couple of weeks have been busy and the pace is likely to pick up moving forward. However, yesterday, on the way to work, the commute was slow because of heavy traffic. In such circumstances, my thoughts usually turn to Lechi. I was feeling a bit guilty for not having her in my thoughts often because I was getting too caught up in work. But does it really matter? The answer is a resounding yes because both Mahati and I continue to miss her a lot.

Unless you are part of the nucleus, the intensity of the loss fades fairly quickly. Outside of the core circle, the gravity of the situation is much diminished. This is fairly apparent as the rest have mostly moved on, busy with their lives, planning their futures, rightly so. But where it becomes really hard is when people outside the nucleus show utter lack of sensitivity to your own needs (whether it is one of privacy, peace and quiet, or access to your own sanctuary) assuming you are also moving on at the same pace.  It is a complex family dynamic.

While Mahati has made progress, leaps and bounds, in dealing with the loss, I see many subtle signs of how she is struggling to make sense of it all. One of her mini obsessions is health. She is worried about every insect bite, she asks me about my age and about others. She volunteered to continue seeing the school pyschologist. She has offered to counsel another child in her situation. On several nights, over the past couple of weeks, at night, she has confessed to being sad. But when I press her for the reason, she attributes it  to something trivial. Also, I have observed her behavior when I am playing and cuddling her baby cousin. She appears to yearn for the same hugging, kissing, and comforting (even though I do hug and kiss her).

My own responses to her needs is definitely a work in progress. Sometimes when she needs me, I notice I am tired or otherwise preoccupied (which I should not be) and may postpone servicing that need. But as they say, knowing what the problem is, makes for half of the solution. So I am working on it.

Some haunting images

Imagine that you are in a lot of pain. Imagine that your arms have been abused by constant needle pokes. Imagine your body is being ravaged by disease. Imagine that you have had surgery in your neck which has now limited your range of head movement. Imagine that you have been told that your days on the earth are numbered. Imagine that you are lying on your recliner (eventually death bed). Now with a partial turn of the head you look askew at the clock on the far wall. Psychologically, what does Time now mean? What could be racing through your mind? Or is the pain and fatigue so great that it just doesn’t matter. This is a highly poignant image of Lechi that keeps playing in my mind over and over……..

Imagine there is a reasonably big living room. It has all the modern amenities (HDTV, surround sound, etc.,). Imagine in one corner of the room is a recliner. Imagine Lechi lying on the recliner. I walk towards her. As I am approaching, she is wincing in pain, with tears silently streaming down her cheeks. She looks at me pleadingly (I cannot forget those eyes). I don’t say much. I wipe away her tears with my hand. Stroke her hair. Go behind the recliner and start massaging her back.  An image that is gut wrenching to date…

I was recently on an overnight camping trip with my daughter’s class. The setting was a flat round meadow. A creek flowed tangentially across one portion of the meadow. The meadow was surrounded by hilly vegetation on one half and mostly dry hills on the other half. The night sky was absolutely beautiful, crystal clear and filled with stars. The milky way streaked across the entire length of the meadow. As I looked up, I found myself spontaneously talking to Lechi, as if she were one of those stars, and promising her I would take good care of our daughter.

Pascal’s wager -a twist

Ever heard of Pascal’s wager? In its simplest form, it goes something like this:

If you believe in God and He does exist, you stand to gain infinitely;

If you believe in God and He does not exist, you don’t lose anything;

For the original phrasing look here : Pascal’s Wager

The link provides the broader context for his wager (part of it being his inability to absolutely reject God because he saw many things in Nature that pointed to His existence while at the same time there were many things that suggested He does not exist).

I am a non-believer. But this is where it gets interesting. I am engaged in my own version of this wager and the entity involved is someone dearer to me than God, my deceased wife. While every reason bearing fiber of my being acknowledges the finality of what happened, there is an equally strong “force” which wants to believe that she could possibly exist in an other world ( rational support for this being the notion of the existence of parallel universes now gaining some currency and legitimacy in the outer reaches of Physics), probably not wanting to preclude the possibility that I may still have a chance to meet her again, afterall. This is an ongoing tension between, I suppose, what the brain scientists, would call my left brain and my right brain.

As I write this, my left brain is telling me that it will eventually win out. Nevertheless, being able to entertain right brain thoughts is comforting (another example being , on occasion, I continue to imagine her presence and how she may have (reacted)/enjoyed/approved (to) the accomplishments of my daughter, however small).

This illustrates a generality pertaining to faith, superstitions, belief etc., Unless you can draw on your critical thinking faculties and objectively consider the facts at hand, it is likely you will stay in the comfortable realm of fantasy . Right brain is the default (easier) option for most people.

Footnote : The left brain and right brain terminology, as used here, is meant to distinguish the logical from the emotional and is loosely coupled to an older distinction between logical and wholisitic thinking that permeated much of psychological thinking upto the 90s. Neuroscientific advances have made these distinctions much more nuanced.  More on this topic later.

Lechi would have turned 40 today

Most people would have marked their entry into a new phase of life (I hesitate to call it middle age as I think the bar has shifted to the right for the population) by celebrating the big four oh birthday. Alas, for dearest Lechi, this life marker proved elusive.

Two years ago, this day, I bought Lechi a pendant with her birthstone (some were of the opinion that I had paid too much for it). I had had the sinking feeling that dear Lechini was not going to be around for long (given how her treatment was progressing and the generally available prognosis). I am so glad I bought it for her because it proved to be the last opportunity I would ever have to show her, materially, my love and affection for her. Last year, on Lechi’s birthday,  Mahati gave her a card saying she was the greatest mom (which I have preserved) and a copy of the Bhagavad Gita!! (this on her own accord).

I wonder if Lechi took this as a sign and decided to give up the fight (she lasted one more day past her birthday).

Many times, this past year, I have been in denial about Lechi’s illness. I have had to make a mental effort to recall the pain and suffering she endured, visualize the specifics to convince myself of the reality that Lechi is indeed in a better place.

However, I have missed her a lot and still do, consciously and unconsciously. Most recently, on my current India trip. Consciously: during our (Mahati and me) visits with friends and family. We were invited to a birthday party and there were games that involved the parents. Most kids had their moms (the default parent chosen by the game show host). Mahati was dragging me there.  Unconscioulsy: Mahati, her grandpa, and I saw the last installment of the Harry Potter movie. There was a lot of fun and excitement at the theater as the kids at the movies were shouting and screaming. I was choking and tearing up inexplicably (I have wondered if this stems from a sense of guilt).  Thankfully, Mahati enjoyed the experience. This was also true when I was performing the first anniversary rituals.

When birthdays are celebrated, most people (including myself) today treat it very superficially. What Lechi’s life has taught me is to understand and appreciate the deeper significance of marking these personal milestones. (It is probably, also, the origin of the celebrations in the first place).  In the same vein, I have also learned to appreciate the value of the rituals associated with remembering loved ones long gone. Not so much for the mechanics (even here I think there are interesting aspects that can help with psychological closure), but for the opportunity to set aside some time to focus on them. [I have to mention here that the Hindu rituals allow for three generations in the heavenly abode, we will cover this in a later blog].

Science tells us, except humans, most animals live in the here and now (which many a philosophy book urges us is the best form of living to aspire for). We have the unique machinery to dwell on the past, present, and future. One of advantages of this- we can continue to remember our loved ones, in spite of their physical absence. I know she will always inhabit our ( Mahati and mine) mental world. Happy Birthday Lechi!  We miss you, we love you!

Missing Lechi

Wow!  It has been nearly three weeks since I wrote on these pages.  Lechi has been in my thoughts, constantly, these past few weeks. One of the big reasons: Mahati’s ninth birthday was coming up (it happened a couple of weeks ago) and it would be her first one without mom. I was torn between celebrating it or completely shutting it out. Finally, I splurged! 

We celebrated Makat’s birthday at the park with family. It was a bit tough, especially cutting the cake part (for me), but more importantly, Mahati went through it all fine.

Even though there is family (on both sides), I miss our private world.  It was a nice cozy place.

Fiftieth blog:Mother’s day

This is my fiftieth blog post! Today is Mother’s day. Happy Mother’s day Lechi. I had not planned it like this. It just happened to be.

I also want to take a moment to thank my mom (Manni, thank you so much) and my mother-in-law(Mami, many thanks) for their tireless support.

The raison de etre for this blog is my wife’s passing from this world. As I have noted in the about page, its main intent was to serve as an outlet for my grief, and of others who knew her. Others have not been as forthcoming, for whatever reason. No matter. For me writing this blog has been cathartic. Immensely therapeutic. Through it, I have also discovered the joy, of writing, of conveying feelings, and more importantly, of dwelling on our shared life, of discovering how little had been said between us and how much more could have been, of what motherhood means (through the lens of my daughter).

We are rapidly coming up on the first anniversary (how time flies!) and the intervening months have been an intense roller coaster ride. At the best of times, it has been in the enjoyment of happy memories of us as a family. At the worst of times, it is reliving the nightmare of intense pain and suffering that Lechi had to endure before it finally consumed her. For Mahati, my daughter, likewise it has been remembering the good times with mom and the incredible void of missing her comfortable bosom in times of vulnerability. Both of us have learned to cope, in our own way, with these intense emotional undulations (and over time the amplitude is also slowly diminishing). [My daughter leans on me for emotional support, but deep within me, I know I am not able to provide in full measure what she is looking for. I am still working on it]. Nevertheless, there are environmental triggers that still sets us off emotionally. Just this morning, I was at a dance rehearsal, photographing/video taping it. It must have been the emotional tone of the songs, I was fighting back tears as I held the camera up to my face. I know it is on Mahati’s mind too. Recently, she told me, don’t remind me of the dates July 31, Aug 1 and Aug 2. These are very sad days…..

Sometimes, the road ahead seems very long and lonely. But then I know it is a journey that has to be made, a la Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance, because I am responsible for our beautiful joint legacy:Mahati.

In my more rational moments, I have wondered, what is the nature of the grief that we experience when we lose someone very near and dear. I think it is a brain system involving the prefrontal cortex (part of the brain heavily implicated in simulating scenarios and predicting outcomes), mirror neurons, empathy(insula,amygdala), and a broken feedback control loop (an open loop system essentially). For the surviving partner, depending on the intensity and duration of the partner’s trauma, there is potential for the equivalent of post-traumatic stress disorder(much like what the soldiers experience) to manifest itself. This is work in progress. I hope to write about this in more detail in a future blog.

What I have realized, and shared with my grief counseling group is this, we get used to the loss of the loved one but never really get over it. Their absence is always present.

Seven months later…

Father Time marches on relentlessly. Unbelievably, it has been seven whole months since Lechi’s passing!

 

In these intervening months, I have realized this. During the time I was caring for Lechi, I was reacting to the mental and physical humiliation wrought on her by the ravages of the Voldemart of medicine. This reaction was manifest as a deeply rational response, in that, it was based on an understanding of the underlying biology, the capabilities of the state of the art in medicine, and the necessity of being a pillar of strength, to help Lechi through this enormous ordeal (I remember one time she was in her wheelchair and I was preparing her for bath when she looked at herself in the mirror. She was quite distressed by the growth on her neck. I had to lie through my teeth to console her that it was not as bad as she really thought it was. Maybe, Harischandra {his ideal life involved two virtues: never go back on your word, and, never lie, no matter what} needs exposure to situations like these to understand the virtues of lying). In effect, I had mentally dedicated myself to service Lechi’s every need to the best of my abilities, wherever possible. I did not allow myself to be overwhelmed by any of the extended ramifications of the situation (I must add, office work helped immensely to keep the mind occupied. Of course, we couldn’t have done without the tremendous support provided by the family).  I even carried this behavior to the logical extreme of thinking about and planning in advance for the final journey (As it would turn out, seems like Lechi anticipated this and surrendered to Yama the same morning that I was going to meet the funeral director!). In all this, I had an outward showing of raw emotion (as in crying) only on three occasions: first, the day I learned about the diagnosis, while driving. Second, the day the doctor came into the hospital room and gave us the “game over” news, and third, some minutes after Lechi’s passing, when I went into the bedroom to wake Mahati up, so that she could say her final goodbye. In short, throughout the ordeal, I had the demeanor of a clinical, hard-core rationalist.

 

This veneer started to unravel, almost immediately after Lechi’s final breath. I have noted elsewhere, in these blogs, that I wanted a pillow for her, so that she could be comfortable, when she was being taken away. Later that same day, I was whispering in her ear, that she would not be alone at the funeral home, and that I would be thinking of her. Grief, can stretch the rational fabric very thin. She has unfettered access to your pysche, announcing herself, at the oddest of times(in conversations, in the middle of work), in the oddest of places (shower, while shaving, in the car, while watching TV, in performing the monthly ceremonies, in a restaurant. Modern science tells us, that multiple universes are a possibility. I have wished for Lechi’s existence in one of those alternate realities. Just this afternoon, I happened to be near her dentist’s office and it triggered a whole flood of emotions). During these visits, Grief, can wreak enough havoc, to choke you up and tear you up. While I have not invoked a God, I do admit to have conjured up many irrational possibilities for maintaining continuity with Lechi. I had led Mahati on, with the notion of building a “Wish Machine”, so that she could bring back as Mahati says “you know who”. But, I am slowly abandoning this idea, as I learned from her school psychologists, that this could cause Mahati to completely mistrust me when she realized it was all make believe. Longer term, that is not at all good for our relationship, is the warning.

 

 Mahati’s mental gyrations have been even more tumultuous. When we were in India (mid to late August) she made it a point to share mom’s passing, even with strangers. My mother even observed her talking to herself, on her favorite swing (yes, she had discovered a go to spot in the complex playground). Nights were when she would miss “amma” the most. At other times, she has been upset watching kids interact with their moms. Over the past few months, there have been very violent outbursts (bloodshot eyes from the crying and a very strong urge to hurt), triggered by something very trivial. Initially, I would react but it took a lot of learning, talking, and patience to let these storms pass.  These episodes have started to subside. She has a good counselor at school who introduced her to another kid and they have exchanged notes. This was very important in that it has helped provide her the right frame of reference, as well as realize there were other kids like her. Now she is bolder in invoking “amma” in conversations. In fact, Lechi is my brahmastra, “secret weapon” that I very sparingly use, when I sometimes need her to comply. It works ! I have tried to come through for her but it is a continuous learning experience. On many an occasion, I have fallen woefully short. The “mom/amma” bar is really high! {I acknowledged this to my mom when I first came to the United States. I can still see how hard my mom (as does my mother-in-law)  tries to help with the situation. Truly amazing!} In spite of my middle-age, I still turn to her for relief.  This is probably my biggest source of despair, that my child will never know or have much of this infinite, indefatigable ocean of love, and always available resource called “amma”.  In general, dads are dispensable, moms are not. Old jungle saying : Dad-hunter, Mom-nurturer. That is the challenge I must step up to.

 

The ordinary has never been more desirable. I say ordinary because intact families take it for granted. Lechi and I enjoyed each other’s company. One of our favorite things to do together was watch Hercule Poirot, Sherlock Holmes, and Agatha Christie serials. I miss that! As I was putting together a slide show of Lechi’s life, many photographs from the trips we had taken together, really reminded me of the good times. {Incidentally, Lechi seems to have had a premonition of sorts even before she was diagnosed. She always asked me if something happened to her would I remarry. In the same breath, she would ask me to promise that I wouldn’t, which I did, and have every intent to honor till my time ends. A few days before she breathed her last, I was wheeling her towards the balcony, as she wanted to look out. She said in a weak drawn out voice,”Suresha…” paused for but a moment and then made a sound “tch!  …paravalai vudu (its ok) “.  I immediately understood what was on her mind, said so, and reiterated my promise. } I remember the many conversations where she aspired for a relatively simple life and was even looking forward to and imagining how our retired life ought to be.  As someone said, “Life happens when you are making other plans!”. On occasion, I do find myself mentally reaching out to her for bouncing off ideas or in making decisions. I also discovered I had only started to really know her and there were many unfinished conversations.  I have also felt, if I only knew we had so limited time with each other, I may have done things differently (for example, time spent doing my MBA would have been worth a lot more had  I spent it with her and Mahati instead). Even a heated exchange or disagreement is more welcome than this void. There is so much to be said just for the simple presence, and nothing more, of someone you love. In some ways, I miss caring for her, as it afforded me the opportunity to always be around her.

 

There is absolutely no doubt that Life as we knew it has fundamentally changed for Mahati and I. Mahati feels vulnerable enough that I have to negotiate, long absences during the day, with her. It seems like when Lechi was around, there was some intangible tacit purpose for everything I/we were doing or trying to achieve. Now that, strangely enough, seems to have disappeared. There is an ongoing effort , on my part, atleast, to determine the right balance between career choices/ambitions/priorities versus being there for Mahati and paying attention to her needs. One thing that I have lost for sure is the capacity for fitful sleep. Some days it feels like I have slept a lot only to discover the clock is showing 1 or 2AM. Thankfully, insomnia has spared Makat. Afternoon naps are more restful. Sometimes I do worry about what it will take to get Mahati safely into adulthood. Our changed lives means, I have to put in place living trusts, insurance, and the like, so a dependent minor, is adequately taken care of.

 

Amongst the most undesirable activities I have had to engage in, over the past few months, include removing many of Lechi’s social footprints, such as canceling her mobile phone service, credit cards, changing titles, changing ownership of bank accounts, etc., It was very uncomfortable.

 

But Life must go on. I am reminded of a song my dad used to sing around the house.  The lyrics go like this

 

When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother, what will I be
Will I be pretty, will I be rich
Here’s what she said to me. 

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

When I was young, I fell in love
I asked my sweetheart what lies ahead
Will we have rainbows, day after day
Here’s what my sweetheart said.

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

Now I have children of my own
They ask their mother, what will I be
Will I be handsome, will I be rich
I tell them tenderly.

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

strange dream

This past Sunday, I spent a lot of time, collating Lechi’s print photos (for scanning and creating digital images), from early childhood, through the time I acquired a digital camera (2002). It was very emotional, to say the least. It brought back a flood of memories (our trips to Carmel, Seattle, San Diego etc.,). Also, looking at her as a innocent little girl as well as an adolescent, time traveling, to think what was in store, in the years to come, choked me up. The unfairness ( who is the arbiter of what is fair?) of it all, was a little hard to swallow. {The next day, I was watching a slide show of the scanned images. Makat happened to walk in, stared at a few pictures and suddenly burst into tears!)

Later in the day, while driving, I was involuntarily thinking of something that I would have shared with Lechi (or it may have been a trip I wanted  to make to the mall together). Suddenly, it hit me like a ton of bricks, that she was, forever now but a memory, and that trip was not possible.  It left me drained.

That night, although tired, I had a lot of difficulty, falling asleep. At some point, I did. I had the strangest dream. I found myself in a temple. There was a Sivan shrine to the left and I can’t remember the diety on the right. I believe I was in an argument with Siva. I had expected the temple complex to be large with people milling around, but when I looked around, its extent was confined to a small area, and the doors of the temple were closed. It was semi-dark and I was alone. I panicked briefly and was then trying to figure out next steps, when I suddenly felt my whole body tighten in response to some very strong external force. I woke up right after and could’nt really tell if this was a real physical reaction or an imagined one……..