I feel unsettled. More than a week has passed. I think of Gunda, brother number 1, almost all of the time. It’s no exaggeration when I say I wake up thinking about him. Go to bed thinking about him.  Remembering that he is no longer with us.  

This is on top of talking about brother number 1 to family members. With my husband, who knew him, his wife and two children for close to three decades.  With sister number 3, almost incessantly. Toing and froing on the many issues, words/gestures/actions and things that encapsulated brother number 1, until she flew back home to London yesterday. Admittedly, we found some solace in reminiscing about him.

With my mum, when she broached/broaches the subject and/or when she looked/looks pensive. I cannot be entirely sure but I think I know what is going on in her head. My mum is not one who expresses or verbalises her feelings well. In this instance, when she does, it is about losing and/or sacrificing her child, and surviving him. It is hard on the old girl, who at 90, is quietly sad, and tearful. Heartbreaking. 

With sister number 2 when she was with us. She texted that she was feeling disorientated, after she returned home to Sydney last Monday. She and her husband had stopped purposely in Kuala Lumpur to visit my mum and brother number 1, enroute to India for a wedding. Gratefully, they met and spoke with him while he was in hospital. In Chennai, the two were caught in a massive storm that wreaked havoc and also flooded the city’s airport in early December. They cut short their stay, cancelled pre-booked train and hotel reservations, incurred losses, and amidst the calamity, managed to miraculously buy new airline tickets to return home in time for brother number 1’s wake and last rites.

It has been and is difficult. I am one of seven siblings. I have four older sisters and two older brothers. I know we are all over 60 and 70 years old, and getting older. I knew brother number 1 was diagnosed with fourth stage cancer in November 2022.  I knew he’s breathing had become more laborious. He was in pain. The treatments, some physically gruelling, the poking and prodding, the hospitalizations and the multiple medicines/painkillers. Not being able to eat and drink. Particularly as he loved his food. I knew it was inevitable. I still prayed and hoped he would somehow recover. I knew it would offer him relief. And yet, it was difficult to grasp and accept. Death is so final. The finality of it made me feel disheartened and sad.

To not be able to see and be with Gunda again. Even though we did not see much of each other or do many things together in our latter years. Not quite like when we were children, and younger adults. When he was the ‘anna’ that I, his ‘tangachi’, was blessed to have.  Ever the protective and caring older brother. He and I have had a good relationship. Yes, with its fair share of ups and downs – episodes of  frustrations and falling out. Fortunately, through it all, we managed to somewhat mend hurt feelings and broken hearts, and remain in touch and intact. Naturally, I wish ‘we’ could have been better, but it is what it is. 

To not have him visit my mum, and sit at the dining table with us. After living in Subang Jaya for some 20 years, his family moved to Subang Alam, making the commute longer. He used to ride the LRT once a week or once a fortnight to see my mum. I remember … Gunda and I used to have lunch every Friday at AvenueK when my mum stayed with sister number 4, for a couple of months, in Brisbane in 2019-2020. To not be able to speak with him, wish him and/or text him on things/people familiar to both of us. To no longer have him present at annual occasions like birthdays, anniversaries, new year’s and Deepavali. To not have him in my future. As sad as it makes me feel, it also made me realise that there are some upsides that I can takeaway from this situation, and hopefully remember to practice.

l remind and tell myself that I still have the chance/opportunity to make time, and be genuinely present for my loved ones. Sometimes, the daily grind of work and routine gets in the way of appreciating family, people and things in life. To be grateful that I’m well enough, yes I have my share of ailments, to be responsible for my own personal health and care. To endeavour to live to the fullest and bestest, while I can. To be supportive and be available for my nephew, niece, and sister-in-law. And, to think and remember Gunda, and always cherish my memories of him.