40th day prayers

The official mourning period for my father ended on the 10^th of June, when we had the 40^th day prayers and ceremonies. In our Orthodox Christian church here in Kerala (and maybe all the Orthodox churches), the belief is that it is on the 41^st day (or maybe the 40^th day, I’m not too sure,) after a person’s death that the soul finally leaves the earth. For 40 days the soul is supposed to be in this realm among the things, places, people, that the person knew, loved, yearned for, etc. There are significances for certain days. It is only on the third day after death that the soul leaves the grave/cemetery, as Jesus’ resurrection was on the 3^rd day. Then there are specific days that the soul remains in the house, town, up until the 30^th day, when the soul can go anywhere in the world. On the 40^th (41^st) day the soul leaves the earth. This is based on the Bible’s account of Jesus having remained on earth for 40 days after his resurrection. On that day there are prayers in church and at the grave.

For these 40 days, the bed on which the body lay before being taken for burial, is kept where it was—usually in the front room— and covered only with a white sheet. A cross and an oil lamp are kept at the head of the bed. (This would be in the west, as the body would have lain facing east.) The lamp is kept burning constantly throughout the 40 days. In the old days Mass was said for the deceased every day of the 40 days and there were prayers by the graveside. But nowadays it may not be so often. On the last day, after the Mass and the prayers at the graveside, the priest comes home and prayers are said at home and then the priest puts out the lamp and removes the white sheet.

I had been through this 3 times before, when my sister-in-law first and then my father-in-law and then mother-in-law all died from various types of cancer in the space of around 9years. I realised that these rituals were very helpful in coming to terms with the death of the loved one. I saw it helping my husband and his siblings. Of course, the void that the loved one left can never ever be filled. But it certainly does help in assuaging the grief at least a little. Then praying at the graveside every year on the death anniversary and on All Souls Day also provides a balm for the sorrow.

I hope it has helped my mother a little. I know that just 40 days can never lessen the sorrow of losing a partner after almost 68 years of marriage, but I pray that she will gradually get some peace. She tries to go on as normally as possible, because as she said once, fairly recently, ‘Anyway till I die, I have to live.’ So she makes a pretty good attempt to live as well as she can.

God bless you Mum and may your soul rest truly in peace Achach.

An ideal.

I came across this post about perfection on Make the most of U. After I read that, I’ve been thinking about perfectionism and related topics. I realised that I was not a perfectionist. I’m not one of those who want everything I do to be perfect. Mostly, I just want to get things done.

But being ideal is another thing. I found that I had wanted to be the ideal mother, the ideal wife. I am most definitely not the ideal wife. I found it required too much of me trying to be someone I wasn’t. I also painfully realised I could never be the ideal mother either. I hated myself for that for a long time. It’s only fairly recently that I have started realising that for one there is no ideal mother. Believe me, it was a big wrench giving up the idea of being the ideal mother. But I think because of that I have started forgiving myself—not completely, never completely—but on the road, for being a human being!! In this context, I used to love Erma Bombeck’s column in American magazines—when we came across them and I have read a couple of her books. Wish I could lay hands on more of her books here. But I still can’t help hoping my children would have forgiven me for the mistakes I did make!! (Proves the picture of ideal motherhood still resides in a corner of my mind)

Belated Mother's Day bouquet to my daughter

Mother’s day has long come and gone and I had put up a tribute to my mother. But now I thought I would like to post a tribute to my daughter, a one-year mom. She is a working girl and feels all the guilt that many such mothers feel. She was so very upset for example, when she missed seeing her son’s 2^nd tooth. She desperately wants to work from home and is trying to get such a job. She juggles her work and her home like so many other women I know—and so is not special that way. Besides, being here in India, means that she has house help to help with cooking and cleaning.

What made me think of doing this post was that not too long ago she asked me if she was a good mom and I was able to say wholeheartedly that she was. To me what I see is a mom who loves her baby. He knows he’s top priority in her life. She’s easy with him meaning the right amount of flexibility, an absolute essential I think when bringing up kids—if you don’t want to go berserk. Of course it maybe that the Supreme Power has given her son an easy-going nature. But whatever it is, the fact that the baby is friendly, and self-confident, shows, to me atleast, that she’s a first rate mom. Here’s to you daughter dear, belated happy mother’s day.

Happy birthday Ma

It is my mother’s birthday today and besides it was Mother’s Day on the 14^th. So I thought I would post a tribute to her today. I know I had written a post to her before but I feel compelled to do it one more time. I found this online and felt it said exactly what I wanted to say about her.

GOD said--

"When I made woman,
I decided she had to be special.
I made her shoulders
strong enough to carry
the weight of the world, yet,
made her arms gentle enough to give comfort...

I gave her the inner strength
to endure childbirth
and the rejection
that many times will come
even from her own children.

I gave her a hardness
that allows her
to keep going and take care
of her family and friends,
even when everyone else gives up, through sickness and fatigue without
complaining....

I gave her the sensitivity to love her children under any and all
circumstances. Even when her child has hurt her badly....

She has the very special power to make a child's boo-boo feel better and
to quell a teenager's anxieties and fears....

I gave her strength to care for her husband, despite faults
and I fashioned her from his rib to protect his heart....

My mother is all of the above and more. I love you mum.

Fly away, fly away, go where you may wish!

I have sort of gotten over feeling sad about my daughter’s proposed move away. My children have the right to live their lives the way they want and sometimes it all turns out for the best. It is just that, as we grow older, it takes longer to get comfortable with a big change. So, bless you daughter, whatever decision the two of you take and wherever you fly to.

My daughter, or rather my daughter’s husband is planning to move to Mumbai form Chennai and I HATE the idea. I feel sad even thinking about it. I so much prefer the southern Indian states to bring up children. Mumbai has become so soulless. Also of course there is the fact that they’ll be moving much farther away from home. Then there is the strong family support that is available in Chennai as opposed to none at all in Mumbai. Is more money and prestige worth it? I really don’t know and I also know that I whatever my feelings, it’s their life and beyond giving my opinion, I have no other right. But I am sad.

My father passed away on Tuesday 2^nd May, in the morning. He was 93 and had been suffering from senile dementia since 2001. His condition had gradually deteriorated over the last year or so. In this last year, the number of times I have been able to have any kind of conversation with him can be counted on my fingers. All of us siblings watched in sorrow at seeing our brilliant father like this. At some point I came to terms with it and said a farewell to him because I realised the father I knew had left quite a while back.

When he started breathing difficulties, my mother called for me around 11.30 p.m. on Monday night. When I heard his breathing it didn’t sound too good. My mother didn’t want him to be taken to the hospital. So, I sat by his bedside the whole night, holding his hand and massaging his chest, while my mother sat on the other side of him. Sometime during the night, while I watched him struggling for breath, I realised he was nearing his end. I just prayed for him to get release. I said my last farewell to him then. When he finally passed away at 7.45 a.m., I was relieved for him and really glad I that I had been able to be with him.

I was never a ‘daddy’s little girl’. It is my mother who I am close to. My dad was a constant, but distant figure in my life. I could never confide in him, or joke with him or even just chat with him. He was a workaholic I guess and most of the fun things we did as children was with my mother & other extended family. My dad was the one who helped with maths and science homework, or the one you discussed serious philosophical points or the political scenario with—things like that. We rarely saw the lighter side of him I think, though I do remember him taking my brother and me to a disco in Delhi (it was 1970), because we couldn’t afford it on the allowance we had while in college. So I remember feeling surprised and touched when, two nights before my wedding he told us about him going pub crawling with his friends after passing his Bar exams in London!

He was very liberated in many ways. But I guess he could never quite forget his upbringing. So he was more old-fashioned in his treatment of us daughters. He treated us as helpless frail creatures, which used to irritate me then. Much later, around 10 years ago maybe, I had a big argument with him and told him that it was insulting to us, his children, to be treated as though we were incapable of looking after ourselves. Yet now, I don’t feel any resentment. I think it’s been a long time since I stopped seeing my parents as gods and started loving them as fallible human beings, which makes everything so much easier to forgive. Also, seeing them old and frail, but trying hard to be independent, made me realise how much I love them, warts and all.

My father was fairly well known in India in his heydays as a professional manager with great ideas and an undying loyalty to his country. What I admired about him was his willingness to help whomever he could, the fact that he was a consensus person, very good at getting people across the spectrum to come to an agreement, his ability to get to the crux of the matter very quickly. But the quality I most admired (and which influenced all of us siblings) was the way he treated his employees and those less fortunate than him—all equally and with respect, unfailingly polite to all.

Goodbye Achach! I’ll miss you.