As I was walking home from the last day of my internal medicine AI, I called my mother to receive the unexpected news that my dad's mother passed away. My first reaction was disbelief. I saw her just 2 months ago and she was doing great. She would take a walk every day, cook and clean, and never complained about her health. The only surgery she ever had was cataract removal. Apparently she returned home from her walk one afternoon, felt unwell, started vomitting, lied down, and never woke up. A few weeks later we learned she passed from an MI. The whole experience has been unsettling and the more I think about it, the more I realize that there is something not right with everything about the whole situation.
It all stems from her relationship with me and with my father. She speaks English fluently, but I never had a conversation with her for longer than a minute. It never even occured to me to ask her about her health. Most of the interaction I had with my grandmother involved day to day questions like what to eat for dinner, what my future career plans are, how to use the laundry machines, etc. How could she possibly understand the struggles and thoughts I dealt with a world apart from hers? So I used this as an excuse. How could I understand her life and customs which seem so antiquated? Why would she agree to marry her first cousin? Why would she choose not to raise her first born son? These questions were difficult which made it easier to ignore them. So thus was built the disconnect between my grandparents and the rest of my family.
Don't get me wrong, I loved my grandmother very much. I admired her discipline in saying prayers every day, cooking faithfully for my grandfather like clockwork, and the way she listened and overreacted to my dad's hypochondriacal health concerns with motherly concern. I used to be annoyed when she would tell me I couldn't eat sweets or go out with friends because of some obscure religious observance that I was unaware of, but this was her steadfast and disciplined way of life. I remember when I received my brand new Volkswagen Rabbit, she insisted we do a small pooja. We put flowers and kunkma on the car, and then I drove over limes. This was a happy day and I'm glad I was able to share it with my grandparents.
Although I'm sad to see her pass, I think about her life and what an overwhelming success it really was. She lived to see her two children grow up and she has 6 healthy and happy grandchildren of her own. She travelled the world and helped her own children settle in a new country that was strange and foreign at one point. She celebrated with her family during weddings and childbirths and was always there to help care for her grandchildren when she was needed. And her life was full and she was not burdened by debilitating progressive health conditions (or at least she never told us about them).
So yesterday was the day I decided would be ideal to officially stop mourning for her loss and to start celebrating her life. She lived a full happy life, and I shared some great memories with her. Although it feels like no one really knew her well, my uncle explained the change best when he visited Murthy to express his condolences:
"For over twenty five years we've been coming to your house and Jaya has made coffee for us every single time. Today is the first time that this won't happen."
