If you have ever lost a loved one to death, you will relate to this post. Although a lot may have been discussed, written and opined about the ultimate end of life, I don’t think anything prepares someone for the death of a loved one. The ones who pass on may go on to the next world, but they leave behind this gut-wrenching emptiness that no one can ever fill. When a loved one loses the battle of life, no matter how long or short, it feels as if someone has torn a piece of your soul and you are expected to deal with it as a way of life.
In my 28 years of life, I had just heard, never been through the horrid effect of death. Although I lost my eldest mami to cancer more than 13 years ago, me and my sister were spared of the emotional farewell as we were too young. But all that changed on 13th September 2009. Our beloved jada mama expired. The second of our three maternal uncles, we had come to call him ‘jada’ mama since our childhood due to his cute round shape, which he came to readily accepted despite protests from my mother.
The impact of his passing was a shock to me and Ronak, mainly because we assumed the surgery was simple; one that would relieve him of the health problems he had been having since a few months. Elders in the family may have realised the seriousness of the procedure due to his deteriorating health, but the possibility of losing him forever never registered with me and Ronak. We lost him to complications related to bypass surgery… a usually simple procedure, which I see thousands of others undergo with ease, even today.
Jada mama was easily the most liked and lovable person in all of our extended family. He pampered young ones, be it my mother, his youngest sister, me and Ronak, his youngest nieces or Dhruvi, his first grand-daughter and the apple of his eye. No one was prepared for his passing… but come to think of it, can anyone ever be? In the two years that he has been gone, the flavour has gone out of alphansoes. I just do not get the same taste today like I used to when he ordered baskets and baskets of them for our visits in the summer breaks.
I came across a piece I had written right after his death, when the pain was too raw to comprehend. I don’t know if this is appropriate to share on this forum, but it brings tears to my eyes even today. I post it here in tribute to the loving memory of a family man loved and missed by all… who makes us feel he was there with us just yesterday, even though it is two years today since he left us forever. Jada mama, here’s to you, who once were and always will be… our jada mama :)
My beloved jada mama passed away today. It was totally unexpected… he was supposed to be home within 10 days and move into a new home with his son and grandkids within a week – something he was looking forward to since quite some time. Instead, he spent his last month battling for his life, attached to god knows how many support systems, trying valiantly to live, to be able to finally spend quality time with his beloved grandchildren. In this lone battle, he lost. And left behind a devastated family: two sons who worshipped him, three grandkids who adored him, and foremost, his wife, who, in their 40-something years of marriage, had never left home without him.
His passing has left a hole in our lives, mostly because we were planning on him getting well soon; we didn’t get to tell him how much we loved him… didn’t get to hold him properly… didn’t get to say goodbye. We were totally unprepared… but come to think of it, who is?
There is this fear now, of never being able to see his lively face again… of never hearing his voice begin his Sunday telephone calls with ‘Jai Shree Krishna’… of never hearing his teasing voice tell us that he is waiting on Vadodara station and to come and get him… of walking into that Mumbai home and not finding him awake at 5 in the morning to welcome us… and most of all, never being able to call him Jada mama again.
The last 2-3 times I saw him were the worst moments of my life… Trying to breath through the ventilator… Then only breathing through it, eyes closed forever… And finally in a stretcher, when he was brought home for the last time. Seeing him in that state gave me a stifling feeling, as if I wanted to scream, but was unable to do so. It is constant, all-pervading, unavoidable.
What I KNOW I will always remember about jada mama is that smile of his that was bestowed on everyone around him freely… that twinkle in his eyes when he teased me and Ronak every time we stayed with him in our summer vacations… the love, care, affection he gave us during his lifetime, and I am sure which will continue from up there.
We all know you are in heaven jada mama… We love you, and you will always remain mine and Ronak’s beloved jada mama. You are eternally etched in the hearts of Bittubhai, Anandbhai, Mami, your three grandkids, mom, Ronak and me. Keep sending your love from up there, always.
In my 28 years of life, I had just heard, never been through the horrid effect of death. Although I lost my eldest mami to cancer more than 13 years ago, me and my sister were spared of the emotional farewell as we were too young. But all that changed on 13th September 2009. Our beloved jada mama expired. The second of our three maternal uncles, we had come to call him ‘jada’ mama since our childhood due to his cute round shape, which he came to readily accepted despite protests from my mother.
The impact of his passing was a shock to me and Ronak, mainly because we assumed the surgery was simple; one that would relieve him of the health problems he had been having since a few months. Elders in the family may have realised the seriousness of the procedure due to his deteriorating health, but the possibility of losing him forever never registered with me and Ronak. We lost him to complications related to bypass surgery… a usually simple procedure, which I see thousands of others undergo with ease, even today.
Jada mama was easily the most liked and lovable person in all of our extended family. He pampered young ones, be it my mother, his youngest sister, me and Ronak, his youngest nieces or Dhruvi, his first grand-daughter and the apple of his eye. No one was prepared for his passing… but come to think of it, can anyone ever be? In the two years that he has been gone, the flavour has gone out of alphansoes. I just do not get the same taste today like I used to when he ordered baskets and baskets of them for our visits in the summer breaks.
I came across a piece I had written right after his death, when the pain was too raw to comprehend. I don’t know if this is appropriate to share on this forum, but it brings tears to my eyes even today. I post it here in tribute to the loving memory of a family man loved and missed by all… who makes us feel he was there with us just yesterday, even though it is two years today since he left us forever. Jada mama, here’s to you, who once were and always will be… our jada mama :)
My beloved jada mama passed away today. It was totally unexpected… he was supposed to be home within 10 days and move into a new home with his son and grandkids within a week – something he was looking forward to since quite some time. Instead, he spent his last month battling for his life, attached to god knows how many support systems, trying valiantly to live, to be able to finally spend quality time with his beloved grandchildren. In this lone battle, he lost. And left behind a devastated family: two sons who worshipped him, three grandkids who adored him, and foremost, his wife, who, in their 40-something years of marriage, had never left home without him.
His passing has left a hole in our lives, mostly because we were planning on him getting well soon; we didn’t get to tell him how much we loved him… didn’t get to hold him properly… didn’t get to say goodbye. We were totally unprepared… but come to think of it, who is?
There is this fear now, of never being able to see his lively face again… of never hearing his voice begin his Sunday telephone calls with ‘Jai Shree Krishna’… of never hearing his teasing voice tell us that he is waiting on Vadodara station and to come and get him… of walking into that Mumbai home and not finding him awake at 5 in the morning to welcome us… and most of all, never being able to call him Jada mama again.
The last 2-3 times I saw him were the worst moments of my life… Trying to breath through the ventilator… Then only breathing through it, eyes closed forever… And finally in a stretcher, when he was brought home for the last time. Seeing him in that state gave me a stifling feeling, as if I wanted to scream, but was unable to do so. It is constant, all-pervading, unavoidable.
What I KNOW I will always remember about jada mama is that smile of his that was bestowed on everyone around him freely… that twinkle in his eyes when he teased me and Ronak every time we stayed with him in our summer vacations… the love, care, affection he gave us during his lifetime, and I am sure which will continue from up there.
We all know you are in heaven jada mama… We love you, and you will always remain mine and Ronak’s beloved jada mama. You are eternally etched in the hearts of Bittubhai, Anandbhai, Mami, your three grandkids, mom, Ronak and me. Keep sending your love from up there, always.
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