February 24th: A Day of Loss, Love, and Light

Usha Jesudasan

It’s that day again – the 24th of February, forever etched in my heart and my soul. It seems to creep up on me slowly throughout the year, making me aware of every day gone by, and then sometime after January, the days become so busy and filled with things to do that I actually forget. Until the night before. I wake up sweating and think, ‘ How could I have forgotten!’ Yes, it is another anniversary of Kumar’s passing. The 28th anniversary. Even as I write it I’m embarrassed that I have lived so long after him and embarrassed and angry that I have had to do graduations and weddings and christenings and endless birthdays without him and to deal with all the hassles and traumas that raising children bring. The photos show a happy smiling me, and yes, of course they were happy joyful occasions, but always tinged with that sharp edge of sadness. I know this to be true for Jamie, John John, and Mallika too. Behind their smiles……..and only I see it. At some point, the sadness and anger take over and we have had tantrums and each of us has understood the other’s pain and ‘forgiven’. That’s not easy to do – wipe the tears away just before the guests arrive or a photoshoot. This pain aside, today is also the 10th anniversary of my cancer surgery and the joyous news is that I am cancer-free. I can stop the oral chemo. My bones will get stronger and I may even get out of the wheelchair. The shadow that has hung over me for a decade can go away – at least for a while. February 24th was one of the two dates my surgeon was available for surgery ten years ago, and I thought why not? It would be great to be anesthetized and not feel anything. I was in a very negative mood. Today all of that changed. I went to the new campus at CMC Ranipet, accompanied by my surgeon Dr. M. J. Paul. Paul, my dear friend in between his surgeries, came with me to hold my hand. We went in to see Dr Ashish Singh , my oncologist. All his registrars and interns and consultants were present. What a crowd. Going for a check-up always makes me nervous and today I was a little more anxious. What if….. As always, Ashish put me at ease. The review is over, and then one of his registrars gives him a large white box. He takes out a beautiful cake. Everyone claps and says,’ Congratulations ma’am.’ I’m a little dazed. ‘Is it somone’s birthday?’ I ask. ‘ It’s for you,’ they say. I look at the cake – it has my name on it. Seeing my stunned expression Dr Ashish says, ‘ This is for you. We wanted to do something very special for you.’ The tears were just there, ready to flow, but at 70, I have found a new composure. We cut the cake and Dr Ashis takes a slice and makes me have a bite of it. ‘Do you do this for everyone?’ I asked. No of course not…….but then, I am Usha Jesudasan! It’s a twenty-minute drive home from the new CMC campus and my mind went back to the time 28 years ago, when everyone went out of their way to make Kumar and me feel special during his last days in hospital. Every so often I meet a nurse or an intern or a doctor who looked after us during that time. It moves me no end that they take the time and trouble to come across the room and introduce themselves to me. I’m always embarrassed that I don’t recognize them, but then they will relate an incident they remember that has stayed with them all these years, and I can usually place them then. It is always a joyous reunion.

I went to Kumar’s grave alone yesterday and was surprised to see flowers on the grave. The watchman said that one of his old patients had come by with the flowers and had sat there for a long time. The sadness lifts. The evening colours are so soft and mellow; the air so balmy; and I feel a quiet peace and an almost bubble of joy within me. I have all these years tried to do something that would lift Kumar’s soul. Today I made pooris and potato masala for all our security men! It was good to see their happy surprised faces. It is the kind of thing he would have done. ‘ In time you will forget me, as life moves on……..’ Kumar said. I shook my head then and reassured him that we would never forget him. Neither I, nor Jamie, John John, Mallika or this dear patient of his has forgotten him. I am touched by the number of people who remember this day and have called or written to me. Our friends who have taken the place of family have stayed very close to us all these years. What fills my heart now is deep deep gratitude for their steadfastness in caring. Twenty-eight years is a very long time to care. To be there. To call and share memories. To bring a box of food and sit with me and remember. As you read this, please know that none of us could have made this journey without you. And how grateful I am to have you in my life.