Ok. Time for a check. Haven't had a decent night's sleep for about a week now. Food seems to taste like chalk. Exams from tomorrow and as usual I know nil. And, again... I don't give a damn.
"Today is simply not about me." Thats exactly how I started the post I wrote, three months ago about my uncle, titled The American desi and ended it saying
"Its imperative that his physiotherapy be carefully supervised by someone who will take care of him 24/7 until he gets back on his feet. Someone, to whom he means more than just a patient, someone he can recognize and relate to. Simply, someone who is FAMILY. Over thirty years of a gifted career, a fabulous lifestyle, unadulterated freedom in a mighty country and all it comes down to, at the end of the day, is that. "
Family. He has a pretty large family : four sisters, two brothers and nine nieces & nephews. For once in his life, he sent a plea asking for help. Not one of them answered in return. You see, the grown ups had important things to do; like look after their houses, their grown up kids, spouses and servants while the kids had academics to take care of. So, he died alone...waiting. And, he was buried there with a proper funeral attended by everybody from all over. Everybody except his family. His family was doing something more important. They were taking care of their lives.
As for me, I could never have thought, I was capable of hurting so much for someone so distant. But I do. I feel like sobbing my heart out every time I think of everything that he must have felt in his last days. Hell, ask me about loneliness and the need to belong. I keep imagining all his pain over and over, almost as a punishment for not being able to do anything for him. I wish, I could have talked to him just once and tell him something I've never let acknowledge to anyone, not even myself. I wish I could tell him that for as long as I remember... HE was my hero.