Living With Grief – Going From IS to WAS

by roopa swaminathan

Kitaab

Living With Grief – Going From IS to WAS by Roopa Swaminathan

“Former aide of Chief Minister Jayalalitha released from prison today!”

I was grading papers for my creative writing class when I heard the news playing on our television at a distance. Even though I was fully engrossed in correcting the short stories that my kids had submitted I perked up when I heard the headlines.

OMG! Sasikala is out! I have to tell amma! I quickly dialed amma’s phone number on my cell and waited. The phone rang and rang. And then I heard another phone ring. I thought someone was calling on my other cell and took it out of my handbag and saw the words “Roopa” on the screen. What the hell?

And then I remembered. And I quickly disconnected my cell phone. As always tears welled in my eyes even as I tried to come to terms with my life as it stood that day.

See…one of the biggest reality checks when you’re grieving and feeling the pain of intense loss is when you constantly think of those who have passed as still being around and refer to those who passed away in the present tense.

And this happens over and over again.

It happened again a few months back when a friend mentioned that Tamil comedian par excellence Vivek had just died of a cardiac arrest. It was a stunning loss to the Tamil film industry and a huge shock to his fans. In another life I had actually worked with Vivek as an assistant director on a Tamil film called Dumm Dumm Dumm. I remembered how incredibly gifted he was, especially in comedy. What stood out was for every scene he was in – he would give the director at least five different variations – with different jokes, different dialogues and different punch lines. But, at that moment – when I heard of the unfortunate demise of this stellar artist at a very young age the first thought that popped into my head was, “OMG! Amma will be so shocked to hear about it. Let me call her before she watches Sun TV and sees it for herself. I need to prepare her for the news.”

And, again – same scenario as above. And I disconnected the phone after dialing her number and hearing it ring.

Thing was…I was not in Shanghai (where I work) but in my parents’ home (where I’d come in January 2020 for my winter break and got stuck because of Covid). If they were alive, they would actually be there. I would not have called my amma on the phone because she would be in the living room or the kitchen. But grief and loss makes us do weird things.

Amma and I would talk about anything and everything. Over this past decade amma had become very active on social media (she LOVED Facebook and YouTube) and her world vision had widened considerably. Things that shocked her in the late 90s and early aughts no longer fazed her. She took most things on the chin. That meant that the big divide that had existed between us for a long time had faded away. Amma and I became very good friends. And one of our favorite pastimes was to just have a good gossip session. Never malicious – not always, anyway – but just a healthy exchange of information about friends, family, celebrities and the world around us.

I miss those sessions with amma. Oh, how I miss them.

I don’t have the same bond with anyone the way I did with her. I never can. Our talks were silly and stupid but so much fun. Especially when it came to our gossip sesh about people we both knew. I can’t even begin to process my life without those sessions with amma.

And then there’s my appa. My best friend ever.

Yes. I know. I said ‘is’ instead of ‘was.’

Appa and I can talk about anything and everything. From conversations about hot dudes (me) and gorgeous women (him) to racism, casteism, the ideological war between the DMK and AIADMK, education system in India vs. the US and then China – we can talk about anything and everything.

Appa’s also a tech freak. He geeks out over every new invention in technology and he wants to buy them all. Every time I read about anything tech-based I call him to tell him about it. The latest use of artificial intelligence (like Robot bees, given my paternal grandpa was a legendary astro-palmist in Chennai, I knew appa would get a kick out of AI being used in fortune-telling, AI writing songs), the game-changing products now being printed by 3-D printers (especially life-saving heart valves printed by hospitals around the world for Covid patients) and so much more.

Each time I read about some new invention I rush to tell him about it. Even now. And yes. I realize that he is not there anymore.

Appa always straddles the perfect path between being a best friend and my father. When I need him to be a dad – he is. When I need my best friend – like a chameleon, he changes and becomes my BFF.

I know. The BF…is no longer BFF. The ‘forever’ ended December 28, 2020.

But – it happens all the time. Ten months after both amma and appa have gone…I still refer to them in the present. Most times it happens organically. I just don’t realize it. Other times – like writing parts of this story – I cannot bring myself to refer to them in the past.

The journey between going from IS to WAS is a long and arduous journey filled with heartache. I tell my students in my creative writing and journalism class that language is so powerful. Words can make or break a person. Words can give confidence or take away someone’s spirit in its entirety. Obviously, I’ve experienced the power of language on my own self but never more did I feel the impact of language till my parents passed away.

A few days back I was on the phone with one of mom’s friends, I said, “Auntie…amma always complains about me and says that I never…”

And then I stopped.

Amma says. Appa says. And I then I have to remind myself that they aren’t there anymore.

No ‘says’…I need to say ‘said.’

It’s simple English grammar but I find that it’s one of the toughest things I’ve ever had to deal with. IS. WILL. Somewhere in your mind you think – or hope – that they’re there somewhere. Maybe not right in front of you but maybe they’ve gone on a vacation somewhere and they ‘will come back.’

But they won’t.

My friends tell me not to push it. And that it’s OK for me to talk about my parents as if they’re still around. After all – they’re very much in my heart. Maybe this is another rite of passage for those of us who are grieving. And, maybe, the change from present to past will happen organically.

Maybe.

With IS – there is hope. There is possibility.

But WAS? There is such a sense of finality with that word.

Unfortunate, that.

Because the past IS final.

Because the word WAS…is the end.