the now

Day 684

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My dearest Saagar,

It’s my birthday today. It’s strange not to have you with me. Strange and painful. I miss you more today than other days if that’s possible.

This morning I visited your school and attended a talk by Dick Moore. It was intended for the teachers but I invited myself to it because I wanted to hear him speak. Some of your teachers were there. They came to me later on and spoke fondly of you, saying how unbelievable all of this was and how wonderful you were. I wholeheartedly agreed.

It broke my heart to be sitting in the very hall where we attended the parent-teacher meetings, the same hall where subsequently your memorial service was held and now this talk. It was an inspiring talk by another parent who had lost a son to suicide and learnt a lot and found the strength to share what he had learnt through this experience in a way that will benefit many hundreds of school children and staff.

At one point your beautiful picture was put up and it dominated the room and for a moment I couldn’t believe any of this was happening!

I had lunch at the same dining hall where you would have eaten every school day for 6 years. I sat on ‘your’ bench and watched the cricket nets where I had taken innumerable shots of your bowling over and over again. Only you knew the difference between one and the next. They all looked completely identical to me.

One of your friends came over and brought me a big bunch of sun-flowers and a very sweet hand-made card! I felt your energy in her smile and the big hug that she gave me. We went out for a Thai meal and I accidentally bit on a red chilly that absolutely burnt my mouth. In that moment I thought of you. Perhaps this was your naughtiness coming through. I am sure you were watching my streaming eyes from somewhere and having a good laugh. Can’t put it past you.

While I missed you terribly, the day was filled with you. Thank you my darling. I love you.

Yours,
Mamma.

Day 683

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A few weeks ago we planned my birthday get-together for today as it was most convenient. The last day of a long weekend. My parents timed their visit to London from India so that they could be here on this occasion. Everything was organised even though I didn’t want to think about it. The guest list was final, I almost didn’t want this day to arrive. It is one thing keeping things ticking along, looking ‘normal’, it is quite another celebrating. It is hard to feign happiness. The contrast between the inner and the outer landscape is too stark. Tears came flooding in at the thought of getting ready for the ‘party’.

I remember 2 years ago Saagar wished me a Happy Birthday today, one day before my birthday believing it to be the day. His illness was just turning from hypomania into depression. His cognition was majorly affected. He was known not to be very good at remembering birthdays etc so I didn’t worry too much.

‘Brain fog’ is a common description of this aspect of depression – diminished ability to think or concentrate and indecisiveness.
“It’s brilliant. You get to take these tablets that keep you half asleep till lunchtime and make you fat. You can’t concentrate on anything and you don’t want to talk to anyone unless you get so angry you want to shout at them. I hide in my room so I don’t end up shouting at my mum. I don’t want to be with anyone but I hate being by myself. I hate staying at home but I can’t go outside. Seriously, it’s brilliant.” – Beth.

 “What would you like for your birthday?” I got asked.
‘No one can get me what I would like for my birthday.’

Despite that, it was a good day. The house felt like a happy place with all these loving and caring people in it – my parents, some of Saagar’s friends and some of ours and some both.

It feels unnatural to be celebrating but…

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Day 682

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100 kms, 2000 meters of ascent (and descent), 25 hours, much pain, a few blisters, no sleep and very little rest later, it was done. The South Coast Challenge. Inspired by our 25 K flat, riverside walk last year that he found terribly easy, with great enthusiasm Si signed up for this long arduous walk about 10 months ago. I promised to support him and do a couple of practise walks with him. Despite having had many odds against him, Si completed it with a smile.

South Coast Challenge

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More than 2000 participants got together to support various charities. All around us there were pictures, memories, a few tears and the will to make a difference. I wish I had the time to get each person’s story. Si walked in support of PAPYRUS (https://www.papyrus-uk.org/), a charity dedicated to prevention of young suicide. At the last stop he said that if Saagar would see him in his present state, he would have a good laugh. He would laugh so much that he would cry. It was in fact raining lightly. May be that’s what it was.

It was interesting for me to be in the supporting role for a while. The waiting, hanging around, remembering the details of what would be needed when and being there just to provide moral support – small things but they meant a lot to both of us. That he is here with me and we share our lives and values so deeply  – I didn’t know this was possible. It is and I feel so lucky! So proud!

 

Day 680

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“In a dream you saw a way to survive and you were full of joy.” This is the title of an exhibition inspired by the power of the horizontal. It also reflects the current of thoughts and wishes that flows through my head at all times, not just while dreaming but also when wide awake, living a ‘normal’ life.

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Yes. I have felt that power – sleeping, working, mourning. I have surrendered to gravity without much resistance lately. In fact sometimes I am completely unable to overcome it. Of late the desire for the horizontal state has been rather overpowering. Getting my head off the pillow in the mornings is challenging even though lying awake in bed can be worse. On occasions I have taken refuge of the duvet for many more hours than required and found it to be The Great Escape, slipping in and out of slumber, completely giving in to inertia.

Death by duvet. I am so entitled to it.

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(Ref: http://www.whitworth.manchester.ac.uk/whats-on/exhibitions/upcomingexhibitions/elizabethpricecurates/)

 

Day 679

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This morning I made a presentation titled ‘Understanding Resilience’ for a bunch of young doctors. While going over my slides for the last time just before leaving home, I made a few minor changes.

The very first slide had my name on it with the prefix ‘Dr’. I deleted that. It wasn’t important. I was going to speak to them as a fellow human being about being human. I remember the time when it meant the world to me to have that title. I completely identified with it. Now, it doesn’t matter.

After I put Saagar’s picture on a slide I went on to add his date of birth and date of death. Between the two dates, I inserted a dash. In that moment I realised – this is where life happens. In that little dash.

That’s it.

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Updated with the help of a friend within minutes of posting the above:

The Dash
by Linda Ellis copyright 1996

I read of a man who stood to speak
at the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on the tombstone
from the beginning…to the end.

He noted that first came the date of birth
and spoke the following date with tears,
but he said what mattered most of all
was the dash between those years.

For that dash represents all the time
that they spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved them
know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own,
the cars…the house…the cash.
What matters is how we live and love
and how we spend our dash.

So, think about this long and hard.
Are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left
that can still be rearranged.

If we could just slow down enough
to consider what’s true and real
and always try to understand
the way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger
and show appreciation more
and love the people in our lives
like we’ve never loved before. 

If we treat each other with respect
and more often wear a smile,
remembering that this special dash
might only last a little while.

So, when your eulogy is being read,
with your life’s actions to rehash…
would you be proud of the things they say
about how you spent YOUR dash?