I’ve always hated those phone calls, the ones that jerk you out of consciousness at times when the world should be sleeping. Ever since I was nine, those calls for me have been bad news, harbingers of death and grief.
This Wednesday was no exception. And now I find myself in the last place I would have expected a month ago, 30,000 feet over Japan waiting for this never-ending flight to end in Hong Kong, after which another flight will take me back home. A home that is now bereft of the most influential person on my upbringing, the closest person I have ever had to a father.
I don’t think the shock has sunk in yet, that what was a fairly standard hospital visit (at least in the last few years) suddenly, catastrophically turned into heart failure. I usually love that early morning drive from Katunayake to the house, the anticipation of seeing family, friends, fun. Now I’m dreading it, I’ve managed to hold myself together while everything around me went to pieces, managed to ensure the cousin’s needs were met with social security numbers, plane tickets, food, etc; managed to make sure all the loose ends at work were taken care off, all the action items listed, everything filed to ensure easy access so none of my projects gets derailed in the two weeks I am gone.
All that I’m waiting now for is the meltdown and that will come, when I see my arcchie, when I see the empty chair, don’t hear him complaining about my hairstyle, my clothes; I’ve been on the edge of sanity and the abyss awaits at the end of that drive. Thankfully the boys being around in LA and the hectic work schedule helped keep my mind off things. But that abyss was always an unguarded moment away.
I and the whole family will miss him more than any words can express. He was the one we always turned to when we were wounded, hurt, for guidance. He and I had a rough relationship at first, understandable when you think the generational gap was so much larger than a normal father and son relationship. It did end with a healthy respect towards each other though and I learn’t to love him for what he did for me and not what he didn’t. As the people at work said if he had that much influence on me he must have truly been a good man. I have to agree, my good qualities are all because of him, my bad are my own.
I just hope I can live up to what he expected of me, what he did for me, for which I will be eternally grateful.
