Last week, as I was enjoying an afternoon cup of tea with my parents, my mother reminisced about one of our family friends from many moons ago. Both my parents recollected the beautiful memories and friendship that they shared with this individual. We have no idea where he is today, but this week’s blog is dedicated to him and chosen families. I share the story of this friendship for one simple reason: to urge you to reach out to at least one close friend and let them know how much they mean to you. Although it might seem like a cheesy and unnecessary request on my part, it is worthwhile. Life is fleeting, and the people we cherish need to know their significance in our lives before it’s too late.
My father and his friend, Nanu Kaka (kaka means father’s brother in Gujarati, and it’s a term of respect that I grew up using for my father’s friends) lived in the same building. Their flats were only a few floors apart, and they spent plenty of time together. When my parents married, Nanu Kaka was still single, but he was a welcome addition to vacations, movie nights, and dinners out.
From what I know, Nanu Kaka belonged to a more traditional Indian household unlike most of my father’s other friends. Regardless, his background or way of living were never a drawback, because he had a heart of gold. Nanu Kaka’s friendship was a blessing in my parents’ lives.
My father and Nanu Kaka shared a bond where he showed up at our doorstep unannounced and when he pleased. In hindsight, this behavior was probably a respite from the complexities of his own home life. For instance, if he didn’t like the food at his place, he came to our place and shared a meal with us. If he had a verbal spat with his family, he came over and spilled the beans on what was bothering him. Despite these quirky traits, I believe that my father and Nanu Kaka shared an honest friendship of trust, respect, and fondness.
I’ve also been told that Nanu Kaka was one of my most trusted babysitters, and we were both fond of each other. I don’t have clear memories of my time with him, but I still distinctly remember how he looked. His bearded face was one of kindness and concern.
One fine day, my parents found out that Nanu Kaka was diagnosed with a brain tumor. It was a shock, and I’m certain Nanu Kaka and his family’s worlds must have come crashing down. By this time, he was married and a father to a baby girl. I don’t know the details of his illness, but I remember the symptoms altered him and his life forever. He began experiencing intermittent memory loss, severe headaches along with changes in mood and behavior. As a result of the disease, he had frequent outbursts with his extended family. During those instances, he would angrily leave the house to cool off and return once he felt settled. All this was happening while my parents and I had shifted our small family to another flat ten minutes away. Due to this change, it was no longer as easy for Nanu Kaka to show up when his heart desired.
I don’t remember him spending as much time in our new home. but I have a vague memory of one of his visits that upset me. I think I was 5 years old then, and my mom had instructed me to get ready for bed, which was when he arrived. While I was doing my part, my parents and Nanu Kaka were seated at our dining table in a deep discussion. As I cautiously approached the table, Nanu Kaka noticed my presence. He was elated to see me and opened his arms for a hug in greeting. My response to his greeting was to freeze in place and sob uncontrollably. All because I’d heard about his illness, and it had scared the living daylights out of me. My parents did their best to calm me down and reassure me that nobody was going to hurt me, especially Nanu Kaka, but I refused to believe them. After a few minutes, I ran off to the bedroom and didn’t step out until he’d left. That night was the last time I laid eyes on him.
For a long time after that night, I guilty and upset about my behavior towards him. Thankfully, I’m no longer that unkind to myself and have realized that I was only a child who found his illness and its symptoms frightening. Today, I know that even in that state, Nanu Kaka had only love for my parents and me.
Soon after the night at our place, Nanu Kaka had one of his usual outbursts at his home and stormed out shortly after. Everyone expected him to return once he had calmed down, but hours went by, and there was no trace of him. That’s when the panic set in and the frantic search began. No matter how long and far family, friends, and the authorities searched, he was never found. One can argue that he didn’t want to return, and although that’s a slim possibility, it isn’t out of the question. Regardless of what happened, it doesn’t change the tragedy and uncertainty that his family and friends endured.
Since the disappearance, I have occasionally asked my father what he thinks happened To Nanu Kaka. His answer was the same for many years. He believed that Nanu Kaka was alive but had suffered a deep memory loss. Every single time, that answer gave me a small ray of hope that we’d see him once again. With time, my question has stopped, because the last time I asked it, the answer had changed. My father felt that Nanu Kaka had left this realm. After all this time, I don’t know if my father had finally lost all hope, and with it, if I lost mine.
Whenever I remember Nanu Kaka, I think of his wife and daughter that he left behind. I wonder what could have been done differently to help him and them. In the end, I’m always left with more questions than answers.
This year, Nanu Kaka’s daughter got married, and his absence felt unfair once again. The lack of closure surrounding his disappearance has never left. With time and the loss of my own best friend, I realize that closure is an illusion. Death and closure don’t go hand in hand, but, as humans, we learn to live with the pain and questions.
It takes insurmountable vulnerability to build our chosen family, so we are indebted to nurture, protect, and strengthen this family time and time again. After all, true friends are one of the few and best lifelines, and the least we can do is let them know how much better our world is because of them.
To all my friends old and new, thank you. I am, because you lift, hold, and love my soul more than I deserve.
As always, I am here to support you all the way, my brave soul. I hope you keep in touch with your stories, thoughts, and feedback. If you wish to learn more, please stop by www.imperfectbodies.com. Lastly, if you enjoyed this information, then please share it with others.
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All the best,
Chaitni