Memories

Day 528

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Everything is different.
Like it is after an earthquake.
Things that were solid are now rubble.
Others are buried underneath.
Some alive. Some dead.

Nothing is the same.
Things that mattered, don’t anymore.
Things that didn’t, make up my world.
Others neither matter, nor don’t.
Indifference comes easier than before.

All has changed.
Everything has shifted and moved.
Pictures have fallen off the walls.
Some doors have been jammed shut.
Never again to come ajar.

The ‘good old days’ have passed.
Forever.
But each morning is a chance
To make every day good and new.
For us. For now.

Time used to be just time.
Now it drags me around with it.
Beauty used to be just beautiful.
Now it leaves me feeling wretched.
Let’s somehow make it better.
Somehow.

Day 524

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Kids are home for Easter. Two of the girls dropped by this evening for dinner, a catch-up and lots of hugs. We talked about the strong and senseless drinking culture amongst university students, especially in the first year, the exhilaration of newly found freedom, the peer pressure, the not knowing when to stop, the erratic behavior it caused, the social sanction of it and the sheer acceptance of it as the norm. We caught up on current boyfriends, childhood sweethearts, hats, shoes and scarves, the films we had watched and the ones we had avoided because it might still be too early. For example, I did not watch ‘Room’ for that reason. They shared the tedium of essays and dissertations, the excitement and apprehension about soon finishing university and stepping out into the ‘real’ world.

They learnt to cook ‘daal’ by watching me. We had a nice, simple meal and then cleared up together.

It felt warm and fuzzy.

It’s great spending time with his friends. They are bright and funny, just like him. They make time for me and that is just wonderful! Lucky me. xxx

Day 514

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It’s morning. I just woke up.
Half a second later: Oh! Saagar!!! Why???
You should have said something darling. I would have done everything I could to help you.
Daylight is trying to sneak in through the tiny gap between the tops of the curtains. Seems like it’s bright outside.
It’s a new day. Come on.

It’s Sunday. I’ll have a lie-in for a bit longer.
Saagar!!! I wish you were here and we could spend the day together. Where are you? Why?
I remember when you played badminton and sometimes missed a shot you would hit your leg with the badminton racket in frustration. It was painful to watch and I repeatedly said to you how unnecessary that was. But you still sometimes did it. Did I miss an important clue? How come I can see everything so clearly now?
It’s a new day. Come on.

It must be cold outside. I’ll stay in bed a bit longer. Maybe sleep will come. I need to get some rest on weekends.
It’s a lovely warm bed. The birds are chirping and the wooden wind-chime is singing the occasional resonant low-pitched harmony. It must be windy outside.
He was so sweet. On weekend mornings he would sometimes bring me tea in bed. We would talk for a long time sitting up in bed together, playing with the cats, sipping tea and planning the day ahead. I smile. Then cry. Then drift off to sleep.

It’s morning. I just woke up.
Half a second later: Oh!

Day 510

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As often as I could I would ‘find’ seeds out of a pomegranate for Saagar and leave them in a bowl for him in the fridge. He loved them.

This poem by Mona Arshi brought back this memory so vividly as if the above lines were in the present tense. It wasn’t so long ago that they were. But now what is, is.

It’s the small things that matter, that I miss the most, that I remember. The small things we do for each other are big.

Ode to a Pomegranate

Sweet sequins
turned strange and delicate,
such feverish capsules!

Sita’s shy dowry stones.
And rubies, brilliant rubies.
Vials of pure narcotic, secreted
by fragments of daybreak.

Fat drops of rain
captured
in your tiny pink purses.

You are such found things:
Many estranged souls,
unborns ticking
in blisters of heat.
Our own misremembered
Firelit tongues or
chambers of
caught songs.

And an infant globe,
in our palms, shows us
the vastness of things,
turmoil of the earth –
who knows what memory
is stored in its skin
like the tips
of my mother’s fingernails

opening, cleaving, intimate with you.

Day 508

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What does someone who is thinking of ending his/her life look like?
They look like just anyone – often completely ‘normal’.

Saagar went to the gym the night before Day 0. After I drove him back home he baked some chicken nuggets that we had got from M&S and had them quite quickly. I pointed out to him,”Saagar, that’s just plastic food darling.” He looked me in the eye and with a faint smile said, ”I know.” I thought that was a bit strange but then he had not been himself for a few days and I didn’t want to make a big deal of it. So I let it go.

That was a clue and I missed it. That was the last face to face conversation we had. It was so subtle. I knew nothing. I suspected nothing. I was ‘suicide naïve’.

A few years ago one mother took her daughter to the psychiatrist and told him that the young lady was thinking of jumping in front of a car. The psychiatrist said, “Girls don’t do things like that.” A week later she completed suicide. He missed it. He must have known everything about suicide.

The intention is sometimes clearly conveyed in words:
“I wish I were dead”
“I am tired of life and can’t go on like this”
“If such and such doesn’t happen I’ll kill myself”
“I am going to end it all.”

In other cases, it may be implied:
“You won’t have to worry about me for much longer”
“No one will miss me”
“I just want out”
“The world would be better off without me.”

The clues may lie in the body language and behavior. For example: putting personal affairs in order, giving away prized possessions, previous suicide attempts, acquiring means such as firearms or pills, utter hopelessness, sudden interest or disinterest in religion, unexplained anger, aggression and irritability.

A change in life situation can be a turning point for some. For example, being dismissed from work or expelled from school, loss of any major relationship, diagnosis of a serious terminal illness, anticipated loss of financial security, loss of a valued therapist, counselor or teacher.

Any of us could experience these feelings and any of us could be looking at someone having these feelings. We will only see what we look for.