An Omniscience Legacy

16th Februay 2020

What a week. What a day. 14th February 2020, I saw my grandfather, the only Seeya I have ever known, leave this world and reality that we live in. While this article is a raw recollection of my experience of his death, I hope it will help me revisit, reminisce and appreciate the beautiful memory of him as I learn to live without his physical presence in this world.

My Seeya was nothing short of a handful. His omniscient nature always steered our conversations to be intellectually stimulating,curious and sometimes even frustrating. But most of the time, I always felt like my perspectives in life was widened and challenged, which is always good, specially if you are someone who gets bored with monotonous thinking structures.

However, the past few years, his physical body just couldnt keep up with his mind, and we painfully watched him be confined to a bed; to a room that was illuminated by a deep yellow light, a bright TV screen and the lively conversations that would happen infrequently. However, I always thought to myself that Seeya redefined what bedridden really was. Often, I would find him resting or watching international tennis tournaments and I would find his Kindle lying next to him. Seeya’s thirst for knowledge, curiosity for innovation and the spunky attitude is what I will hold close and carry forward with me.

But yesterday was hard. I hadn’t seen him for a couple of weeks but as my phone rang and hearing my mother’s voice with a coat of sadness and panic, I rushed to his side with the blood pressure machine. His eyes were wide open, body warm to the touch with the sound of him struggling to breathe. After two strokes, his body wasted over the past few years and all I could feel as I wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his arm, was skin and bones. All this time, the deterioration of his physical body, didn’t affect his thinking and mind. But today he wasn’t responsive. He would mumble and show that he could still hear me as I told Amma to call an ambulance. I kept stroking his warm arm as I told him we are getting him help, but couldn’t understand why his eyes were wide open in a focused and communicative sense. What was he looking at? What was he seeing?

As the ambulance came to take him to hospital, with Amma accompanying him, I felt a deep sadness as I watched him wince in pain as he was transferred from him bed to the metal cold hard stretcher. I’m now thinking, was it really worth it? Did we cause him more pain by making that decision? Did we push him too hard? Are we bothering him when he just wants to let go?
But I guess we will always have these “could’ve , would’ve, should’ve” thoughts that would run through our heads after experiences like this.

As I got dressed to go to the hospital, my focus was on supporting Amma. The process of losing your father will have a profound impact on you, even if you are well prepared for it. As I was making a sandwich for her and gathering her medication, she called and told me it’s not looking too good. It was then the thought began to solidify that this would be the day, that Seeya gets the peace and serenity he deserved, because the past 4 years have been a progressive reminder of the impermanence of life, for all of us.

In the hopsital, after emergency assessment and basic treatment, he was transferred to a medical ward, where he would be managed medically to keep him comfortable. Seeya had pneumonia and was in septic shock ( A diagnosis I would only read through the “Declaration of death” form given to us by the doctors — oh Sri Lankan healthcare system, what a long way we have yet to go to follow a patient centred approach to care)

My mom couldnt handle seeing him in that state, so I took over. I wrote a consent form outlining that we didn’t want intensive care for him if things worsen and sat by his bedside. He was finding it easier to breathe after they suctioned the phlegm in his throat, which was black fluid that filled up the container next to him. Seeing that, I knew that we closer to the end than ever before.

I asked him if he wanted me to sing, read or pray for him, but he just lifted his hand to say ‘no’. He said some random words which I heard like “Wasanthi was depressed, Malli” and a few others that I can’t remember now.

But his eyes were still wide open, looking at something that was beyond me. What was he seeing?

So I asked him whether he wanted to close his eyes, and he said he will, in time.

Thatha came and saw him and said he woudn’t last. He was finding it difficult to see Seeya like this and refused to be around and we left the ward while the medical team was trying to insert a feeding tube and all I heard was Seeya struggling. Are we causing him more pain? Is this what he really wants? Who is going to make this decision? How do we continue?

After a few moments outside with my parents, I had a feeling I needed to go check on him. I walked up to bed number 36, pushed back the curtains, and saw and felt that he has passed. I shouted for help which is when the doctor came and told me. Apparently they did CPR but he did not wake up. Ridiculous that I had to come and find out without being informed by the medical team, but this is a venting session for another day.

The process that followed was exhausting. Death becomes less about grieving, but more about logistics. Phone calls, bills, paperwork, coordination is actually what follows death. I guess for me, this was a blessing in a way. My brain and body went on to project mode and feeling and grieving was secondary.

What followed was preparing for a funeral. Getting the house ready and the paperwork was a blur. It was a series of hugs, reminiscing memories, serving people food and drink and making sure the oil lamp above where Seeya’s body laid was burning bright.

But within 24 hours, the last phase of his life in this world was complete, with tears, stories and gratitude for all that you have done for our family and the country as whole.

Your directive emails and texts that always remind me to keep learning and changing will be what I revisit when I miss you. As your first grandchild, I’m sure you had a special place in your heart carved out for me.

“Death annihilates the body and my intuition tells me that my Soul moves into God’s domain into the cyberspace of His infinite web where our sansaric journey will begin as a life with a body or a life without a body as reffered to a million times in religious texts..
Nirvana may be the step where the sansaric journey ends. Let me have your views”
-Betram Fernando-
24th December 2019

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