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A Memoir of Loss

Some losses take a part of you with them forever.

By Gourav BhattacharyaPublished 4 years ago 9 min read
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September 26th, 2020

On the 17th I performed my Boromama’s (maternal uncle) first death anniversary ritual. Seeing his photo and performing his death anniversary ritual felt odd. I sat in the same place where he used to when he would perform the monthly rituals after my maternal grandmother’s death. I used to stand beside him, watching as he performed the rituals while the priest recited the mantras. Not once during those times did I think that I would have to sit in the same place and perform the rituals for him someday. It never occurred to me. I never imagined his death. Then again, I did not imagine my grandmother’s death either.

I was not there during both of their deaths. I was back in California while both of them breathed their last here in Kolkata. After my grandmother died, I reached Kolkata in less than a month’s time. I tried reaching earlier, but I could not. I always blamed myself for not being there by her side. Looking back, I feel I got lucky that time. It took me 11 months to land in Kolkata after my uncle died. The city does feel emptier. I can still hear their voices in my head. I wish I could mimic them to somewhat fill the void while keeping my eyes closed, but I cannot.

As the priest recited the mantras in front of me, I tried forgetting who I was performing these rituals for. I mean, I knew they were for my uncle, but I was trying to prevent myself from remembering what he meant to me. Unfortunately, it is not as easy as one would like it to be. You never forget. You never can. It all stays with you making you want to create new memories to ponder over later. However, when those memories wander around inside your head they make you realize how the time to make new memories and the person to make them with are both lone gone. It’s all in the past and there’s no way you can get it back.

October 6th, 2019

The past year has been one of the most emotionally-taxing years of my life. I have had to deal with one of the most humbling of experiences known to man; loss.

According to Socrates’ teachings, the mortal existence is an obstruction on the path of absolute wisdom and perfection for our soul. In simple words, our existence is a waste of time, and our ‘real’ life begins only after death. Think about it. From the perspective of the entire cosmos, our existence is highly rudimentary. Even meaningless. Yet, we as humans strive to give some meaning to our lives. We learn, work, earn, fall in love, form relations, make a family, and live our lives working towards a self-prescribed goal to make our limited time on earth meaningful. What’s saddening about this is how in this futile attempt of ours, we do nothing but complicate our lives. You see, if we were completely rational beings, we would not have complicated this process of ‘giving our life meaning.’ We complicate it because we have emotions. Emotions restrict us from being rational. I may sound inhuman, but I speak from experience. Like everybody else, I too have had people around me whom I’ve cared for and loved. Some more than others. Recently, I lost some of them in a short span of time. Now. I’ve lost all sense and direction of what I should do.

November 24th, 2018

November was a difficult month. I remember going through a terrible phase with my girlfriend during that time. I still remember the date from when it all started - November 2, 2018. We didn’t talk much during that phase. The conversations that we had here and there because of my earnest requests always ended with us shedding tears. Days went by and so did weeks. Around the third week of November, we started talking more. I wouldn’t say that things were necessarily better, but the talking was more. Then the day came. November 24. I received the news that my maternal grandmother had passed away. She was ill for some time and her condition was becoming critical, but no one expected her to leave us that day. I remember rushing downstairs hearing my mother crying. My dad was sitting across from her and my elder sister was on the ground holding her. I was sitting on the stairs watching them while trying to come to terms with what had happened. I couldn’t believe it. For some reason, my mind was rejecting the fact that my grandmother was no more. I watched them all night from the staircase trying to fight the growing denial within me.

That night changed me. It changed me a lot. I started caring a lot less about my life from that day. What I was glad about though was how nobody except me saw the change, or maybe nobody cared enough to, I don’t know. My grandmother was my second mother, and to be completely honest, she meant to me more than my parents did. I never told anyone about this, fearing what people might think, but that’s the truth. I remember not being able to cry. For some reason, I just couldn’t accept that she was gone. Nevertheless, when my girlfriend got the news, her behavior changed, and she became very caring. I can’t say I liked the sudden change, but I was ready to put the past behind us.

I kept trying to convince myself that my grandmother was dead, but certain pills are just too hard to swallow. I lost one of the dearest people to me that day. Even now when I play the flashbacks of her telling me bedtime stories, I forget that she isn’t here with us anymore. Sometimes it hurts. Other times, it hurts a lot.

September 23rd, 2019

Life was mundane, but professionally there were a few things to look forward to. It was a sunny morning and I had just headed out to attend a convocation at my university. I was waiting for a bus and grabbed a seat at the back when one finally came. My phone started ringing. I looked at the screen to see that it was my dad calling. I picked up the call and said, "Hello.” We talked for a few moments mostly about the convocation. Then he said, ‘Gourav, there’s bad news. Do you have time?”

“Yes yes!” I replied.

“Gourav, your Boromama (maternal uncle) suffered a massive heart attack and is no more.” Time stood still when I heard those words. My mind stopped working, my body was stiff, my eyes were wide open, and the phone simply dropped from my hand. I couldn’t move. The bus driver had to walk up to me to ask me to get down since we were at the last stop. I got down and started walking back. I didn’t blink once during the entire walk back. There was water in my eyes, but it wasn’t tears. For there to be tears I would have to feel something first. I was numb. I sat in my room, while silently staring at the walls. People were repeatedly calling me. My sister, my dad, my mom, my girlfriend, and my one friend who had gotten the news. I didn’t pick up any of the calls. Finally, when the calls stopped coming, I picked up the phone and pulled up a photo of my uncle from my gallery. That’s when all the emotions came in and led me into one of my most frantic episodes of crying. I begged at his photo for him to come back. No one responded.

My uncle was everything my parents weren’t. He and my grandmother were the most important people in my childhood. Every time my parents would fall short in any duty of theirs, he would make up for it and more. He was probably my first friend. He was the one person who would listen to what I had to say and would advise me through the toughest phases of life. He was probably the only person who truly ever understood me. Many can teach, but my uncle taught me how to learn. He loved me more than one loves their own child. I always dreamt of taking care of him after I reached a stable position in my life. Now that dream will never be fulfilled. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to get him back. I just need to know how.

September 11th, 2020

I’ve lost two of the closest people to my heart over the last couple of years. It hurts. My mom keeps breaking down as she continues to struggle to come to terms with their death. As much as I want to stop her, I can’t because there’s literally no one she can talk to about these things.

I was laying in bed looking at the ceiling without my glasses when she came to my room and sat on the chair. She began talking about various different things to which I barely paid any attention. Then all of a sudden, she mentioned Boromama’s upcoming first death anniversary ritual. I felt uncomfortable listening to her talk about it. Gradually, I could hear her get emotional as her voice started cracking. She started telling me how much she misses her mom and her brother. What felt bad at that point was how she was expressing herself as I struggle each and every day to do the same. My eyes began to get watery as I listened to her vent. I made sure to not make any eye contact, keeping my eyes glued to the ceiling. However, with every word she uttered, she was tugging at my heartstrings. I was closing my eyes shut from time to time to control myself. Didn’t help. Finally, my mom got up and left. I could feel myself feeling short of breath. I got up and I locked the door after she left. I turned off the lights of the room and looked out the window. And then it all came crashing down. I felt a slight burn in my nose just moments before tears started gushing down my eyes. I kept calling out for my uncle and my grandmother, asking them where they were and why they left me. I kept requesting them to come back. I placed my hand over my mouth so that my mom wouldn’t hear anything. The thought that I would have to perform rituals for my uncle’s death anniversary was too much for me. I cried for hours, unable to control myself in any way. I kept looking at my uncle’s only photo on my phone, regretting the fact that there wasn’t one of my grandmother. The more I attempted to stop the tears the harder it got. Even after all this time, I haven’t been able to completely move on.

If only there was a way to bring them back…

grief
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About the Creator

Gourav Bhattacharya

We are emotional beings and our emotions mold us into what we finally become. From time to time I tap into this emotional side to pen down stories and anecdotes that are close to my heart.

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