bereavement

I went to a charity evening this weekend. Held in memory of someone I had come to know and respect and love in the short time I had known him. When I looked at the full town hall - full of people who knew him and respected him and loved him even more than I did, I came to realise one thing. This person had so many facets - he meant so many different things to different people. We had all come together to remember him and celebrate his life. The mood was definitely not dark or glum or sad. There was song and dance and speeches and food and laughter. All through that, there was a feeling of loss deep down.
On my way back, I thought about why he meant so much to ME - someone who was just on the outskirts of his circle of friends and relatives. I thought about why I had felt the way I did when I heard the news more than a year ago, considering that I had only met him a few times, mainly in the company of a lot of other people.

I first heard of him before we came to UK - he had given my wife (who was not my wife then) very valuable advice about her career development. Then I knew more about him when my wife came to the UK - for he took her under his wing just as he would his own daughter. Whenever my wife talked about him, I had the impression that he was a person I would look up to, someone whose praise I would value.

I remember the first time I talked to him - after my engagement (after it was all 'official' and I could talk to her relatives). It was after I had passed my exams - in 2003, more than a year after I first knew about him. I still remember - we (then my fiancee, now my wife and I) were driving to London and she had called him to introduce me - I felt quite anxious, but he congratulated me on my success in the exam and he said he was glad things were slowly falling into place for me. I mumbled something inconsequential and passed the phone over to my 'fiancee'. The conversation stays surprisingly fresh in my mind - among the innumerable conversations I had over the last 3 years with mostly faceless people.

I remember the first time I went out with my wife to look for a house - we were riding in the back of his impressive and opulent Mercedes. He was joking and laughing with us - I was just drooling at the jaw dropping interior of the stately car! After he had seen our shortlist of houses, he said he liked one of them - the one I had liked the moment I walked in. Somehow that fact - that I liked what HE liked meant something to me (still does).

I remember my wife's exams - he used to conduct mock exams for her, being an experienced examiner for the Royal College of Surgeons. I used to tag along, more a driver to take my wife where she wants, hoping for good home cooked food at his house than anything else. I remember this Surgeon's prayer he had framed on his wall. We talked about it and I showed him the Physician's prayer I have had in my wallet since I first read it as a medical student.

I remember the last Christmas - almost two years ago. He was leading a 'train dance' - for want of a better description. It was after dinner at his house, there was music and laughter (as usual, when he is around) and he was weaving the 'train' in and around the furniture recruiting more 'cars' to his train by coaxing everyone including the reclining 'Aunties' to join the fun.

I remember the disbelief when I heard the news. It just could not be right. It just was not fair. I felt for his family, but I also had selfish reasons of my own. I wanted him to be there for a lot more things in MY life too. I wanted his approval and appreciation for a lot of important things I still have to do.

I did not cry then. For some strange reason, I just felt angry.

I went to his house afterwards - a few days later. I still had not cried - did not feel like it - till I saw him smiling at all of us from a photograph - he looked so happy and confident and full of life.
I didn't make a scene then - there were far more important people around whose grief was greater than mine.
I didn't make a scene last weekend either - in fact I have to confess I had fun being with so many people I knew through him, so many people I have now come to love - all through him.
I do not have the command over language that would do justice to how I feel about him and in someways, I think it is best not to try and crystallise in mere words what he meant to those who loved him.