Losing the soles of one's shoes

I received an email from a very old and dear friend, who is also the daughter of my father's best friend. She had written to condole the loss of Ranjan's parents and reminisced about the time she lost her father 15 years ago. Losing a parent she said is like "perdre les semelles de ses chaussures…" that can be translated at best as losing the sole of one's shoes. Some may think it a bit strange to compare a parent to the sole of shoe, but if you give it some thought, I guess she is spot on.

I actually lost both my parents on November 29th 1992, the day my father died as though Kamala, my mother had died more than a year earlier, Ram, my father never let me feel her loss and walked into her shoes surreptitiously and I must confess flawlessly. I actually became an orphan the day he died and my first reaction was that I would never bang a door again as there is no one who will knock at it and heal my hurt. Banging doors was my silly way of proclaiming woes and my father more than my mother was the one who came knocking, often with a yummy treat as that was his way of saying he was sorry. My mother, the more rational and commonsensical of the two, one day bought a donkey load of earthen pots - yes they were sold on donkeys in days of yore - and told me that I could break them rather than bang the doors of our newly built house. But her ruse did not work for long and I was back at banging doors till November 1992. I have never banged a door since. When you become an orphan, you also grow up, no matter your age.

Losing the soles of your shoes is also a poignant image to describe the loss of your parents. Come to think of it, is they who teach you how to walk, holding your hand at first and then slowly teaching you all the pitfalls, concrete and emotional that come into your life thus toughening the soles you walk on. And even when they seemingly let you go they remain in the wings to break every fall and arm you with the wisdom to avoid them in the future. And this game goes on as long as they live.

When they finally leave and you put your foot on the ground to walk, you strangely see your steps faltering and realise that you have to walk on without your safety net on slippery new soles that will need to be toughened again, and the catch is that you will have to do it all by yourself.

People who have just lost their parents ask how long it will take to get over the pain or as some say: to stop missing them! My answer is never! The only thing that happens is that you learn to miss them and to  learn to live without their physical presence. You evolve your coping strategies. Look at pictures and relive tender memories. Sieve through reminiscences and hold on to the ones that you love most. Do something in their memory. Remember then on birthdays and anniversaries. Give form to your feelings in words or on canvas. Call them in the dead of night or the crack of dawn seeking answers in times of trouble and lo an behold you get the answer you seek as I have so often.

Some may not believe that parents remain with us even after they go and are there to make sure those soles are not worn out. A few years back when I was going through a terrible patch in my life, a diary appeared from nowhere, written by Kamala a few months before she died. Reading it was uncanny as she had seen my life path beyond her death and had all the answers I needed on offer.

When you parents are gone, no matter what your relationship has been because of circumstances, you have to master the art of reading between the lines of life, of hearing the words that were never said, of holding on to the gentle and caring memories and let everything else go.