“A man’s dying is more the survivors’ affair than his own.” – Thomas Mann

My father’s mother passed away in India last night and will be cremated early tomorrow morning. It hasn’t been a year since his little brother’s death, so I worry about my dad’s state of mind. Utterly useless to my family right now, I remember my grandmother the only way I can, by writing about her:

Despite never having spent a substantial amount of time with her, I know Bhavani Paati (Grandma Bhavani) because I am her – she is the storyteller, writer, historian, people watcher, and mocha-colored Rubenesque … woman in me. She was the inspiration for VatulNet …

Paati’s children and grandchildren are almost everywhere in the world – India, Europe, Australia, and the United States. Now, more than ever, is when we wish we could all miraculously converge in space and time to commiserate and grieve. But, time zones and logistics do not always militate in our favor.

… you may understand my chagrin at not having had or made the time to spend with the woman who created and raised my father, uncles, and aunts. Yet, during this blink of a geological eye, I was privy to her company and advice whenever possible and grew a hearty appreciation for home and family. For that, I am grateful.

My grandmother went in the best of conditions – at 94, in her home, in minimal pain, surrounded by close family members, and during an auspicious time of the year for observant Hindus.

I love and miss you, Paati.