tribute

India won independence from Britain in 1947. Or according to tongue-in-cheek family lore, my mother was so powerful that the year after she was born, the British left India. Our dad was sincere in calling her our family's Dhairya Lakshmi--our Goddess of Courage. I can't believe my vibrant, beautiful, lovely, funny mother is not in this realm any longer. I feel enveloped in her presence and love still.

I can't put into words how amazing she was or how hard she loved me and my sister. When other Indian kids bemoan their strict upbringing, I'm extra grateful for Amma who diligently used the copy of Dr. Benjamin Spock she acquired in college; her two primary parenting rules for my sister and me were 1) Love your kids no matter what 2) Say yes more than you say no. As the eldest in a family of five she received extra corporal punishment from her father: "if the first wheel is straight, all the other wheels will follow." So she was determined that she would never lay a finger on her kids--that was one of the many generational cycles she successfully broke.

As a child she was hilariously blunt (to her grieving mother--"mom, don't cry! All your powder [make up] is getting washed away") + a terrible liar (after being told not to tell her grandfather they'd been to the cinema "Thatha, we didn't AT ALL go to the cinema"). And she continued on with those traits. She loved so fiercely and was unfailingly proud of us. It's no wonder she was adored by her two kids and grandkids, her four siblings, her niblings, and several of her kids' friends. Also, she loved her only brother extra and didn't care who knew that. I love that she and Aaron were each other's favorites. He was even better than I was at deciphering her 2:00 am texts--typos, Telugu colloquialisms and all. And she blissfully took my dad for granted. "Even if God himself came down to tell me, I'd never believe your dad could have an affair," she told me once. And just as I was awed by the trust that seemed to exist between my parents, she added: "He really hates to spend money." That still cracks me up.

She was irrepressible and fun-loving. And that line in _Bend it Like Beckham_ "Don't smile, Indian brides never smile" didn't apply to her; look how radiant she is in that B&W picture as a bride. She loved people and parties and travel. The week before Spring break this year, she texted me around 2:30 am to suggest she, my sister, and I should go to Istanbul. We could share a suite, her treat! We didn't do that, but two months ago, when she was here, we threw a huge garden party together, and she adored book clubs so we went to one at Jan Shoemaker's, and we got in lots of cuddles with Atulya and NuNu who were even more precious to her than her kids ("the interest is more precious than the principal" she'd say.)

Today a cardinal at the window woke me up. This is wonderful as they say cardinals are a sign of a loved one's spirit. But also, I have a feeder at that window and also I didn't have to wait to feel my mom's presence. It is always with me. I can't stop loving her and Amma won't stop loving us. I will always love her; she will love us forever. Om Shanti, Shanti, Shantihi.

birthday footsteps

Mom's birthday is on the 8th

Mine is on the 4th

my sister's is on the 22nd 

She always says the numbers in our birthdays (4 + 2 + 2) add up to hers (8).

My birthday is on the 4th

At's is on the 2nd

Nu's is on the 11th

I love that the numbers in my kids birthdays (2 + 1 + 1) add up to mine too!

Pic: One of her favorite photos of my sis and me.

is it even "going home"?

The date for the formal "Kariyalu" has been fixed for the 21st of September, and I'm going to make a quick trip to Bangalore. 

My mom always scoffed at this ceremony as a cipher and merely a signal to visiting family that the mourning period was over and that they should go home now. But that's her irreverent wit. 

I think it'll at least be healing for me to see my dad and sister and for us all to hold each other and cry. 

It doesn't feel like "going home" in any real way. She was the heart of the family--partly because she had such a huge personality and partly because she was a stay-at-home mom and always there. Not that anyone could take her for granted, I love that she always demanded full attention.

Pic: She kept this photo of me (at 6 months?) in her wallet.

I'm not the only one...

As the condolences come in, I'm reminded that so many people I know have suffered the loss of at least one parent already. I'm kind of in a lucky subset to have enjoyed the love and shelter of both my parents for so long. I feel extra sad when the condolences come from friends who lost their mothers before they were mothers themselves... Or when a young colleague mentioned that she was familiar with the pain of knowing how this felt--it totally took me out of my own grief for a while. 

I made it through this teaching day by not making eye-contact with anyone outside of class. The classroom feels like a natural place for me to be, but I cannot with in-person condolences, hugs, and talks right now. I feel like if I engage with anyone, I'll be a mess. I think I walked past a some people trying to talk to me because I was in my own head.

And while we laughed and cried and held each other through the ceremony here on Sunday and it felt meaningful... I can finally articulate even if only to myself how heartbroken I am that the cremation in India happened so quickly that I wasn't able to say goodbye to my mom. I can rationalize all night that it was just her physical form and all that, but it would have meant so much if they had been able to delay for a day or two. 

Pic: Amma's Wedding photo

where it hurts

Today would have been mom's Boss Day. 

I bit the bullet and informed HR at work and FB on the socials today. I hope this means I won't have to go over the details with everyone one by one, because I don't think  have it in me.

Writing up a reflection of Amma was easier than speaking, which I still can't do without breaking down.

It hurts everywhere. Some of it is from a record number of bumps and bruises over the past few days. But it also just hurts all over. 

I don't have the wherewithal to find it, but I heard a snippet on the radio before all this went down about how fibromyalgia (which is what this feels like) never shows up alone, but is always pinned to depression, of ACEs (Adverse Childhood Experiences), or traumas.

Pic: My mom treasured this photo because her name was Manu and I took this for her on a 1998 trip to Hawaii. 

saying goodbye

At and Nu have been so lovely and supportive. I've chuckled once or twice because I seem to say some really cliche stuff, but they listen attentively and treat me gently. I wonder how long this can last.

At first, I breezily told the kids that they were welcome to come home this weekend to be together and tell Ammama stories. Then I went back and made it clear that although I made it seem like they COULD come if THEY wanted to, what I really meant was that I really needed them to come, if they could. So At and Nu made plans and got home today. At took the Flyer from Ann Arbor; friends went to pick Nu up from college.

Knowing they would be home and would spend tonight here was something that got me through yesterday.

I walked to TJ's (still don't trust myself to drive) to get flowers to make a garland for the altar and predictably cried; At's friend H found me crying in the street and very kindly walked me back home. 

Later the fam told our favorite stories about Amma while the Aditya Hridayam played and wished her a safe and peaceful journey onward. Her ashes were mixed into the Kaveri at Srirangapatna today. 

Pic: The fam at the altar we made for Amma. 
(I did not want friends dropping off trays of food. But at some point I stopped protesting because it didn't make a difference and I'm so tired. It turns out, all those friends did know best. It was such a relief not to worry about what people were going to eat.)

life is dukkha

My dad spoke to me kindly and firmly and mere hours later the cremation has already taken place. There will be a celebration of life in December when I can take the kids to Bangalore. I saw my mom garlanded and looking different on a video call... I haven't been able to stop crying. My whole face hurts from crying and every part of my body.

Everyone is at my sister's house. Aunts and uncles, cousins. A lot of neighbors. Friends. I'm beginning to get a bit overwhelmed here as well. I am grateful for the love and care, but also just want to curl up in a ball. I've cried snottily on too many people in the last 24 hours. Typically, that's an honor reserved for Big A. 

For someone who usually loves being around people, I'm realizing that this is one moment I want to be alone. I've done stuff like pretend I'm not home and left people on read. I know I'll have to tell people at work and then probably on Facebook so I don't have to tell the story (and cry) hundreds of times, but I'm dreading that.

Pic: Mom on her 75th birthday. I love that my sister and I both picked the SAME photo for our altars!