travel countdown math

I've booked my tickets for Bangalore...

I leave on Wednesday and am back early on Tuesday, or 

4         days of travel 

3         days I'll have in Bangalore 

2         nights I'll spend in Bangalore 

1         teaching day I'll miss 

0         pleasure 

still present

I'm still using the present tense when I talk about mom a lot of the time, and I guess that's ok. Every time I receive a condolence message, I go through a moment where I'm like--LOL, no! my mom's not dead... before I realize no, that message really is for me. 

They say a loved one's spirit is near when a cardinal appears... I've been woken up by a cardinal almost every day since Amma died...

Could it be because when A is at work, I've been sleeping downstairs with Max and Huck?

Mostly... no regrets

I wasn't always the best kid. 

I broke her heart when I tried to die. And during my teen anorexic years, I wielded a sort of malicious power over her at mealtimes. But both those things were over a period of 3-4 late teen years and outside of that--to her, I seemed the best kid. 

Every thing about me--my grades, my stories, my smiles, my book recs, my kids, my home, every award, every publication, every tiny hair tweak, every plant hack... every stupid thing brought her so much joy... as she never tired of telling me.

I'm glad we went for a long visit recently, and that we got to see her this summer, I'm glad I got to take her to all the places she wanted to go to, made her fabulous meals and very simple ones (the last thing I made her was the Parsi omelette sandwich we ate at picnic style at the Detroit airport), made sure the kids cleared their calendars and spent enough time with us, did the professional family photo shoot she wanted, sang all the songs she wanted me to sing to her, took her shopping at all the discount places she loved.

I let all the small things go. Her main parenting rule was that she would love me no matter what. And in the last twenty years, that became my reciprocal rule as well. I stopped trying to convince her about things that were important to me... she had her own list of things that were important to her (mostly At, Nu, my sister, and me). And things got real easy after that. So... despite the pain, at least there's peace in knowing I don't wish I had done anything differently. 

The day before*, she wished me for my Boss Day, then we talked for a bit. Our last words were: 

"Love you, Kanna" 

"Love you, Amma"

No... No regrets... If I had known those were to be our final words, I would not have changed them.

But I would have changed the time. My grandmother and great-grandmother lived into their nineties and I expected my mom would too...

Pic: I recognize my lovely mom. The gremlin in her lap is supposedly me. 

* It was the 6th in Bangalore, but it was still the 5th when I got the call. I keep replaying the words I heard my sister say through her sobs ("Akka, Amma passed away this morning") in my head as if they'll make sense this time.

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