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Of living and surviving

It has been 14 years since my dad passed away. Every now and then a thought will come to mind, imagining how it would be had he been alive now. My kid would’ve been the luckiest one ever to have had him around and possibly the most pampered one on the planet. I often think of him whenever something happens new or for the first time in our life. Be it the first flight travel, first time when we bought a laptop home, when we had inverter setup, when junior started going school and every time when IPL kickstarts a fresh season. He was an avid cricket fan and just couple of days before the launch of the first season he passed away. It was all a blur and before I could realize and grasp the depth of it, already couple of years had passed. He was someone who wanted to enjoy the thrills of life and would’ve loved to travel by flight. He would’ve been secretly nervous, now that I slowly understand how he would’ve felt at a similar stage in his life, but would’ve been proud of having travelled by air and would’ve proudly discussed the journey in his circles, dissecting every bit of the detail. He was always curious around computers and when we bought a new laptop, he would’ve treasured it as a precious one that it would’ve deserved and would’ve maintained it to the extent possible. When inverter came home for the very first time, I couldn’t help but imagine all those years when we sweated the nights without electricity during power outages and how he would spend most of the nights fanning us to sleep. Whenever junior does something funny it immediately strikes in mind, how he would’ve loved and relished it. Cherishing life was something that I could never ever learn from him. He had a good circle of friends and maintained relationships across several decades. People generally say, it is difficult to make new friends beyond a certain age. He was an exception to that and made friends wherever he went and across all the temples he visited. As someone who would always want to participate in every event around him, he was always active, roaming around his scooty that never went beyond 20KMPH. He would clean and maintain it like someone who owns a Harley Davidson and it was probably the best maintained vehicle in its category that was running slightly faster than someone who can walk quick. Even today his friends remember him and talk about him in high regards as a gentleman. Invariably, that is probably the single most comment about him, irrespective of whoever he might’ve come across in life or made acquaintance with.

When I see those on either side of parents family who have either been widowed or a widower, I find one thing quite perplexing. Somehow the ladies who outlive their husbands have more of a manageable situation with their daughters and hang on, whereas the dads have tough time adapting to a life with their sons after the demise of their spouse. Is it because, beyond a certain age, men, who typically would’ve played the head of the house role, find it difficult to accept the kid who used to be dependent on them as someone leading the charge? Or is it simply the so called “male ego” that clashes as their sons also grow old and reach the famed “middle age crisis” not knowing how to handle someone who used to be their guide growing up. The ladies though still manage by being mindful of the ego trip and possibly try to simulate being a homemaker under their husband into a much smaller role with their kids. Will a career woman, on retirement face similar challenge with her son? It may not be a one rule that fits all and I am not that observant a person about other people lives. The answer could be very simple or may be very complex. But if you have grown putting someone on a pedestal, wonder how it can change with passage of time. The fact never changes that they are the parent however old they may become and that alone should be sufficient I guess. How much ever ego one may have about themselves, end of the day, it is the parents initials that sets one up and nothing can change that.

Comments

Ramesh said…
That's the magic of a parent, isn't it. Something you only realise when you become a parent yourself.

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