Call me Dreamer: Epitaph

I have avoided posting on here for so long. I knew that if I wrote it here, it would really be the end. As the death count increases so do the memories that burden my heart. The list keeps growing and I wonder if it will ever stop.

There are a couple things that have not changed since the last time I posted.

-If I am being honest, phone calls from my family still scare me, especially from my brother. I started calling first. Consciously or unconsciously, I am not sure.

-When I see people die on screen, it hurts me so much more than it used to. Spoilers: I watched In the Heights in theatres last weekend with a close friend and I once again realized I was not over them.

-There are sudden moments in time when the emotions take my breath away. I smile for no reason or feel down and cry for no reason or get stuck in the memories.

^But like every other moment in time, it passes to the next moment. I continue living slowly through this life that is made up of moments in time.

In less than a year, I lost three of my grandparents, close great aunts and uncles, and precious family friends. My relation to death in March of 2020 is far different from my relation to death today. Naively, I thought I understood death and dying. It is not like this past year is the first time someone I knew passed away.

I underestimated the toll death takes when it is people who are more than fuzzy faces in your family or acquaintances.

I underestimated the toll death takes when it is someone who is definitively a part of you. Someone whose words, actions, patterns, and mannerisms have played a part in influencing the sum total of your existence.

I will always remember how my paternal grandmother, Tham, would tell me stories of her childhood during the partition, how she taught me to braid hair using old shoelaces, and how to eat rice and debone fish without ever dirtying the palm of my hand. In her bedroom, I would sleep next to her and hear her breathing laboriously. A constant witness to her struggle with asthma and the consequences of bouts of pneumonia. I wish I could have asked you-were you happy? When you smiled, were you really happy? That time when you watched that Bengali soap opera or when you secretly ate a sweet or when you waited for us to arrive in the depths of the night alone? I hope you were happy.

I will always remember how my maternal grandmother, Didani, would never stop moving. From the break of dawn, she was always doing something: talking on the phone, hanging up clothes in the balcony, reading short stories or novels or newspapers, and cooking. She was always cooking. Didani embodied living life like you were running out of time, but she always made time for me. She'd tell me stories of ancient kingdoms and talking animals and adventures of lost treasure from pure memory, be my make-up model, and make me tok dal. I wonder if I ever eased your daily anxieties. Back then, if I had known, I would have called to say good-bye. I am sorry that I couldn't that time, but I'm even more sorry that I didn't call more often. Will you forgive me?

I will always remember the first time my maternal grandfather, Dadai, taught me how to castle in chess sitting on that divan. Conversations of every topic under the sun used to enchant the divan that lies empty and silent now. You were a walking encyclopedia. If I had even a fraction of your knowledge, wouldn't that be nice? I have inherited your dreams and made them my own. They live inside of me every day. I know that if you had the same opportunities I did, you would have done so much better. I wish I could have seen you even though you would not have been able to see me; at least I would have heard you call me sahajadi one last time.

I could keep writing memories. Memories of my grandpa's best friend who would play pranks on me every time we met and his smile filled with unbounded joy every time he succeeded. Memories of my best friend's mom who treated me like her own daughter. Memories of my great aunt and uncle who passed away barely a week apart.

I could keep writing, but it would not change anything.

From my 04/14/21 Playlist:

Marjorie-Taylor Swift