The first person I lost to death (there are many ways to lose a person) was my maternal grandpa. I was about ten and flew to Sri Lanka for the funeral with my mother. We were living in India at that time because my dad was posted there for a couple of years.
After the funeral, I overheard my mother tell my aunt, “She didn’t even cry once,” referring to my non-display of emotions. No wonder I’ve gone on to live as a shy griever for decades since then.
What she didn’t know was that I told myself over and over that week, “Now that grandpa is gone, there is no one to truly love me.” Until I brought this up in therapy a few years back, I hadn’t fully recognized how heavy this belief was for the ten-year-old me.
I grew up in my grandpa’s house from birth to about six or seven, all my formative years. Psychologists believe that our core beliefs and mindset programming are installed between the ages of zero and seven. I have pictures of me crawling in a white undershirt and nappy on his living room floor. Pictures of me in a red swimming suit, posing with hands on my waist, re-purposing the unused water tank at ground level as a swimming pool. Pictures of me squinting at the sun with my Hello Kitty bag in front of the grandfather clock.
I remember the two shoeflower trees that flagged his verandah entrance. I remember my doctor’s house and clinic that neighbored his place. I remember his dog, Tommy, and the many cats I hugged and played with before I got the wheeze, and the specialist doctor told me never to hang out with furry animals again. I’m still scared of cats and dogs. I remember the Milady toffees he gave me every time I visited. I still love the combination of mint and chocolate that he loved.
But there’s a lot I don’t remember as well. I don’t remember his voice or his mood. My memories are patchy; I remember snapshots, but not scenes with him. I don’t remember any advice he gave me, as I remember from my paternal grandpa, who passed when I was eighteen.
But I will always remember his love that felt unconditional. I keep looking for that love in every man I meet.
I believe his energy is still with me, protecting me always. Silent but sturdy. Warm and reassuring. Felt but still beyond my reach.
