When I read "Understanding Grief, by Jane E. Brody", I thought I should also write about how I have grieved when I lost my father. It was so sudden, within a period of 5 days, my father was no more. Relatively a healthy man suffered a brain stroke. It was Sunday, midday, I was ready Sherlock Holmes book by Ted Ricardi. There was humdrum upstairs, someone fell down, when I ran upstairs, I saw few people holding my father by arms. He had already lost sense on his right side of the body. I didn't know it was brain stroke, I immediately called a taxi with my brother, don't ask why I didn't call for an ambulance. Took him to Teaching Hospital, emergency ward, no doctors or nurses, everyone had gone out for lunch. An intern doctor attended my father, she was unsure of the situation. Later, a lot lot later, doctors arrive, they studied MRI report and told me I was very very late in rushing my father to the hospital. When I said, within half an hour of attack I brought him here, they started nervously dispersing away from me and my father. Then and there I decided I will never go back to Teaching Hospital, because of the carelessness all the doctors and nurses have had. The same lady intern quickly made reports and advised me I take him to Neuro Hospital. We took an ambulance to there, all the doctors there quickly attended my father. This time doctors were not reckless but fully arrogant. Who would not be? After all, they are super doctors of this world-class hospital of Nepal. Few hours long surgery, 48 hours of waiting and much patience, Dr. Devkota broke the news, that dad would never wake up. It was Thursday, 13th of Aug, 8:30 PM (28th of Shrawan), the day we lost our dad and he lost all his sufferings.
I still remember my mom and we four siblings grieving his death. The sound of wailing still reverberates in my ear after two and a half years.
We talk about him all the time, include him in our conversation. Enact how he would react to different situations but my mom can't look at dad's photo yet and my sister never see his videos.
He was one active person. Always talking, always walking. He could never sit idle. All of us were relieved when his sufferings ended with his demise. I think he lost the sense of suffering as soon as he went for surgery. I somewhere knew he would not wake up and if he woke up he would be incurably speechless and bedridden for all his life. A talkative person like him, at loss of speech and the person who walked everywhere a bedridden one, would kill him even more. That would be 100 times more sufferings than death.
You never ‘get over it,’ you ‘get on with it,’ and you never ‘move on,’ but you ‘move forward.’
There is nothing in this world I miss except for my father. At the age of 57, he had to leave us all behind with the empty spot in our lives. We are getting on with your absence with you in our heart and moving forward with you in our lives.
