Tag: Karnataka

Grief

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So far I’ve found three buckets (pails) of grief. As I share this, I realise that it might resonate with your own experiences. (See I’m moving on from me me me). As you know, I’m new to this. Maybe it might help others, who knows?

In bucket one is the stuff you just can’t avoid. The absolute challenges which you face when your loved one dies. The sudden trauma, the shock, the breathlessness of the realisation that she’s gone. Bam

Just like that! A wacking great big black hole.

No matter how much you think you prepare, or plan or maybe you had realised what might happen. …… It’s not enough. It has actually happened and you’ve just got to deal with it.

Your personal resilience might help, your belief system (they’re still here and gone onto greater things?) could wrap it up nicely, time will also be the proverbial healer, or so they say. My mate Tom says it’s like walking down or further away from the hill, you see more of the total picture and put it in perspective.

Bottom line is…. You ‘choose’ how to deal with it.

In the second bucket is the grief you can give yourself. You know the sort of thing. The what ifs? The guilt trips. The preoccupations. Missed opportunities. Recriminations. Regrets. The whispers you ignored. The stress.

In my view, this is the big challenge and again you choose. In this case you can maybe control how much you open the tap and fill the bucket.

So how much angst is there to be?

I don’t live a life with regrets but this is a whole different ball game. The smallest chink of light, the smallest possibility to catch the grief and you’ve got it. It’s hard.

In my and Manjula’s situation.

We’ve been dealing with a series of serious illnesses for over three years. I wonder if we could have handled it differently. More regular tests, quicker responsiveness to trying new things, better lifestyle such as exercises, different opinions, complementary medicines. I know though that it was very tough for Manjula, she hated the tests (usually with disapppinting results) the clinic merry go round, the manic mother hen husband, the too many tablets.

The second main choosing-to-give -myself-grief issue is how well we used the last twelve months.

After a spell in intensive care a year ago and her unhappy experience on a ventilator she was given another lease of life. I look back at the photos. We sort of had the old Manjula. After six months she began to lose weight, they thought she might have TB and her drugs didn’t seem to work. She was slipping away and I just didn’t know what to do.

At the end she’d had a heart attack and real difficulty breathing. This was on the Friday evening. They’d resuscitated her and not intubated her in line with my (her) request. On the Saturday morning she had another heart attack. Immediately before we managed to discuss and she only wanted to be on ventilator if it was a day or two. There was a real likelihood she would never be able to come off it. I decided to let her go.

We did do good things. We have so many happy memories.

She was keen to properly celebrate her birthday in August, she wanted to continue the BnB even as she lost more weight and lived between her bed, the downstairs lounge and outdoor sit out. She loved and livened up when meeting the guests.

We managed a final holiday in Kannur, the site of our first holiday together after becoming engaged three years ago.

Our time was precious. We had a wonderful, odd maybe but amazing relationship. From different worlds but all the better for it.

In that final year there were times we both knew where it was heading. Manjula would once or twice talk about death. Me forever the coward didn’t want that, couldn’t deal with it and worried that might in itself help bring it on. We had to remain positive. We should however have discussed it properly. Some might say I was in complete denial.

We seem to choose whether and how much to give ourselves the grief in bucket two, maybe not even the time of day or perhaps the full flow.

I realise now it’s useful to create your own narrative or ways of fathoming it all out. It requires a balanced view. I think we did the best in the circumstances.

Bottom line is ‘it’s how it is’

In bucket three the grief is more existential. What’s the purpose or point in life? What happens when we ‘move-on’ ?

That can remain with its lid on!

So now as we approach The fourth week since Manjula died we have a few more things to do to help her on the way.

It may now be time to step aside from the angst. It’ll still keep popping up but I’ll hold it with me

I thank you for allowing me to share and your kindness, patience and support by being there for me and Manjula.

Next I plan to bring you herstory.

Yes, I’ll lighten up…

Walking Luci

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We’re out on our morning walk and stopped to sit reflect and write in one of the many local parks.

There’s a guy wandering around the park. There are two friendly boys following.

What is he doing?

In his bag there’s a series of containers with what seems to be powders, seeds and maybe even snacky things.

He’s distributing little piles all over the park.

Piles of powder on the ground Crunchy stuff on top of the walls.

Got it!

He’s feeding the insects and the birds.

I’m assuming he’s a Jain, doing good things particularly for the animals and that can’t be too bad for his Karma and future incarnation!

Footnote

A kindly neighbour loaned me a copy of the Bhagavad Gita with a recommendation to read the section on death. It helps illuminate the ‘matter of factness’ of the Hindu approach. As wordly family we shouldn’t get too attached as the spirit lives on ….. the spirit moves on to another body and as it progresses becomes part of the greater whole. We’ve done the main rituals and send our positive vibes hoping Manjula has found her new home. We know she deserves a good one.

My life, my key, my saviour

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Absolutely nothing ever goes to plan or as expected.

The 11th day, of Pooja for Manjula is now the day after the one originally planned, so unfortunately non of our Indian friends are able to come. The appropriate date is calculated by some mystic, the stars or pure whim, who knows? The event organised by Manjulas brother and family will be in a village with no one that we really know. It doesn’t really matter. But…. Non of us will speak Kannada or have any idea whats going on. Then there’s the whole issue of me bringing her mangal sutra and ankle chains and getting them back to take home. So there’s a few things to understand and manage.

That’s today’s first challenge.

Then there was….

the Merry-go-round of trying to collect Manjula’s body from the hospital,

..or the case of the missing engagement ring and wedding sari.

It’s one thing after another.

It’s becoming more and more apparent that Manjula has been my golden key to help open the lock of India she’s enabled me to relatively easily surf the uncertain waters, the buffering of the white water. That’s now gone.

India well and truly takes you out of your comfort zone and then pushes you out a bit further and a bit further and further still into unchartered waters.

She was also my life life saver in so many ways.

But of course, she’s still with me.

Swop?

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I can understand how some people might wish to swop places with their loved one who has died or been diagnosed with a terminal illness.

I could do that, no doubt.

But it misses one of the many points.

There would still be the grief, the loneliness, confusion of being only one part of the whole.

And how would it work? I would take on Manjula’s illness she would have all our money, material goods (she’d definitely demand the washing machine) the house, Lucy. No sweat. But it’s no solution. We’d still be apart. Maybe we could go for a hybrid two halves as one.

No I’m not going bonkers this is how my mind ordinarily ‘works’.

If it was just a case of a straight swop. I’d worry that even though Manjula can be strong as a rock, gentle as the waves, she actually comes from a very poor background and in this extremely layered patriarchal society it will always be a challenge for a woman on her own.

Until of course it really changes.

Manjula …. Taking back control

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The idiots in the British Government at the head of the Conservative party seem to have completely lost it, and not just in terms of Brexit

On the other hand …. it’s quite another matter for a woman in Mysore ……

Her main purpose in our nine years together was to invite people to share her home and to connect. In those years she’d done everything to create a beautiful, clean, comfortable open welcoming home. Not just the cleaning, cooking, preparing rooms for the guests, managing the staff, coordinating transport and the garden and above all create that warm, welcoming atmosphere that something in the air.

That useless lump of a husband by contrast was only the booking clerk. She so loved pointing that out!

Of this achievement she was rightly proud. This week we’ve received hundreds of messages from around the world, a testament to how she’s drawn people close to her, connected with them and left behind a piece of her.

This last season, as she lost so much weight and at times became poorly, she would often reflect with me that now that she could do none of what she did over the years. It wasn’t true of course, after talking it through she’d agree that the most important the meeting, greeting and chatting, connecting with people was still very much her role and what she’d love doing. It’s the main reason why we were open over this last season. It was what kept her going.

Recorded on 12th March

She very much kept control, she had a network, fetching and carrying, the fruit and veg for breakfasts delivered by the shop, the gardener dropping in her own Breakfast, Sudha bringing home cooked food every day, organising transport, managing the staff, I’d even jokingly bought her a bell to use when she wanted me but the innovator, the strong woman that she was would just have to ring my phone and pavlov’s dog would come running.

I’d joke that it wasn’t like this before we got married.

But there’s another less comfortable aspect of her taking control.

I think she’d had enough and knew it was time to go.

She was fed up of the uncertainty, the to and fro from the different doctors and clinics, the loss of weight, feeling ill, the many many many drugs she was taking every day, the dodderyness, the tests. She absolutely hated the blood tests, it had all got too much. Last week on Wednesday the doctors wanted to admit her, she wouldn’t go. We went home. I discussed it with her. She eventually decided to go back in on the Friday to an ordinary ward. She was admitted to the ICU as her condition had deteriorated. As we prepared to leave home in the Ambassador to go to the hospital she had one careful look around the lounge, as if she was taking it all in, one last time or as others suggested that she could see something else telling her it was time.

Manjula had a heart attack that evening and was brought back to life then again in the morning she had another and in line with her wishes I asked the doctors to let her go.

Asthi Vasarjan

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Manjula died just before 11am on Saturday 23rd March of a heart attack. I’m asked if there were any last words. Not as such, we had in fact not been able to discuss the situation and what to do.

I’d complained that since the night before she hadn’t shared one of her beautiful smiles. So she obliged and gave me a smile and a giggle. Not her usual standard or the right circumstances but exactly what was required. My lasting memory amongst millions.

As a dutiful husband and with our closest friends we’ve now by Wednesday fulfilled what’s required for her Hindu faith.

We’ve helped continue the process of being released from this body and to go to the next.

On Saturday we brought her home, laid Manjula out on the Divan that’s been her bed for for the past year.

Family and friends gathered to say farewell.

Next day, Sunday, Manjula was taken to the crematorium and finally to the auspicious river Kaveri to immerse her ashes on the Monday.

This is the ritual called Asthi Virsarjan more info here

We will be certain to do more …..

My thanks to all our friends for making this horrendously difficult time slightly more manageable.

Thank you to Faizan for creating this wonderful video

Missing Manjula 1

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Thank you all for your kind thoughts, precious memories of Manjula and wonderful photographs. There are so many I can’t keep up but please do send more and we’ll create a virtual book.

Here’s some examples.

Dear Stephen
I’m so very sorry to hear about Manjula – she gave joy not just to you but to many others too. I just wanted to share with you some of the photos I took of her. I especially like the one of the two of you that I took while you were still claiming that you weren’t a couple’. 
Sending much love – Anna
………..

Thank you for getting to know a little bit of you, from Dana and her family.

……….

Dear Stephen,

We have just received your news and are just so very very sad to hear of Manjula’s death. it is hard for us to take in and must be so for you. She was such a one-off, we were so happy to meet her, loved her humour, her cooking, the way she had your measure! She also had courage. What a great couple you were. We are so glad that you had your time together, short though it turned out to be and we have such joyful memories of staying with you. Sunday night curry – how she glowed sitting at that table in her beautiful saris, take away pizzas, and fruit salad without papaya for me (against the rules!)! We have many very fond memories. We are so sorry that her life has been cut short but I imagine her years with you must have exceeded anything she had expected in her life! I’m sure tears are being shed across many countries, so many people did she connect with.

We also are just so sad for you in your loss. It must be very very tough. Thankfully you are surrounded by people who also loved and appreciated her uniqueness and hope this offers some comfort in your sadness. Much love to you.

Ros and Paul xx

Team briefing

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As per usual. The girls are completely ignoring me. I’ve offered Manjula a new job and here’s the detail of the tasks and targets!

Ok so I’m not the worlds best artist 🙃 it’s how I communicated her job when she first came to work for me….

Here’s a photo of the original job description!

yes, there was a day when Manjula actually worked for me. Now we know that the tables have turned.

This is just my way to help support her and to focus on what’s important such as eating well, putting on weight, exercising, not being in bed too long, welcoming and chatting with guests, taking meds on time. Above all fun things and seeing the world through a glass half full

Here’s Manjula summarising how her jobs changed over time. A week or so before she died.

We’re alike….

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It’s always good to find similarities and differences, the places where we Bridge and others where the paths fork…..

We’ve discussed a few times about how important it’s been for Manjula to keep the place going even while she’s not been so well these past few months.

It’s been the right decision when she’s out and about or amongst our visitors she’s enlivened by being connected.

We see it when chatting to guests, at the hospital, or coordinating her network of help, from her good friend who brings home cooked for her each day, the boys at the veg shop and our own team of drivers, cleaners and gardener.

As with me, she’s clearly energised by connecting and engaging with people.