“There is a break in the family history, where the ages accumulate and overlap, and the natural order makes no sense: it’s when the child becomes the parent of their parent.”
This happens when the father grows older and begins to move as if he were walking through fog – slowly, very slowly, imprecisely. The walk appears more like slow-motion walk of a film.
It is when one of the parents who once held your hand firmly during your childhood no longer wants to be alone. He wants you to hold his hand firmly during his old age.
It is when the father who once led you through the dark room, who told you to be brave, feels scared to be left alone in a well-lit room! He wants you to give him company.
The father who was once strong and unbeatable, weakens and takes two deep breaths before rising from his seat.
It is when the father, who once commanded and ordered, now only sighs, only groans, and searches for where the door and window are – walk to the bathroom becomes laborious; every hallway now feels too big and distant.
It is when one of the parents, once willing and hardworking, struggles to dress themselves and forgets to take their medication.
It is when the father does not know how to answer a phone call, in his eagerness to answer he ends up disconnecting it!
And we, as their children, will do nothing and can do nothing but to accept that we are responsible for that life. The very lives that gave us birth today depends on our life to die in peace. Don’t you think they have a right to die in peace?
It is a fact that every child is the parent of their parent’s death. Perhaps the old age of a father or mother is, curiously, the final pregnancy and death is the childbirth. Our last lesson in the textbook and duty are to take this opportunity to return the care and love they gave us for decades.
Just as we made our homes safe by blocking power outlets and setting up enclosures to care for our babies, we will now rearrange the furniture, non-slip mats in the bathrooms and sofas for our parents.
The first transformation happens in the bathroom. We will be the parents of our parents, the ones who now install a grab bar and non-slip mats in the bathroom. The grab bar is emblematic and symbolic. It inaugurates the “unsteadiness of the waters.” The shower was once simple and refreshing. Today it became a storm for the old body of our protectors. We cannot leave them for even a moment.
The home of my late father has grab bars along the walls. Many a time, my own hands extended in the form of railings to prevent a nasty fall. Trust me, aging is but walking while holding onto walls, chairs and various objects. Old age is climbing stairs without steps. My father became a stranger in his own home which he had lovingly built. He used to observe every detail of home with fear and unfamiliarity, with doubt and concern. He became a free prisoner in his own home!
His children became bankers, insurers, architects, designers and frustrated administrators. How did the children not foresee that their parents would get sick and need them? Where was their education? What has happened to their understanding?
We will regret the expensive sofas, the bronze statues, and the staircase. We will regret all the obstacles and the furniture. We will regret independent houses and the accumulation of dust. We will regret the bathtubs and the slippery marble flooring. All these were once status symbols determining upward mobility in the society! We became victims of our own deeds. We became our own enemies. We are our enemies. The enemy is within.
Happy is the child who becomes the parent of their parent before their death, and unfortunate is the child who only appears at the funeral and does not say a heartfelt (a little goodbye) each day. I can only speak for myself. I had the blessing of accompanying my father until his final moments. I made tea every day for my father, who cherished his early morning and evening Book Bond 3 Roses tea. He always wanted it strong and hot.
I washed father’s soiled clothes. Whenever I said “Let me help you sir” he looked at me with a childlike smile and affection. I had the infinite honour of cradling my father, consumed by old age: small, wrinkled, fragile, trembling. I used to sit with him for a long time, the time equivalent to my childhood, the time equivalent to my adolescence, a long time, an endless time. He used to say: ‘By Your Side Nothing Hurts’. With him next to me time became a meaningless entity. It ceased to exist.
I was, for many years, my father’s barber. I was my father’s washerman. I was his part-time cook. What I did not say in so many words were this: ‘I am here sir, I am here, Father’! This is what every father wants to hear at the end of his life.
I love you, sir. In their latest findings the quantum physicists say that there is no death. Death is an illusion. I have known this well long before. Hence, wherever you are, I always think of you, I will never forget you. At the same time, I fear for my old age. Will I be as lucky as you sir?
About the Author
Dr. K. Raja Gopal Reddy is a seasoned internationally qualified Insurance professional. What you are reading here, may not answer all the questions we have, but has the absolute power of asking unsettling questions which increase the interest in the strange world, and show the contradictory wonders lying just below the surface of the commonest things of life. Look at this disturbing but beautiful thought of Friedrich Nietzsche “God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him”.
Dr. Reddy can be reached at: raja66gopal@gmail.com
