You adored him for the perfectionist that he was; you detested him for expecting the same from you. You admired his authority; you hated his guts. You were overawed by his stellar vocabulary; you hated it when he made you read the newspaper everyday, much against your wishes. You loved the walk – upright, with head held high; before a few bypasses and haemorrhages reduced him to a mere mannequin. Despite all this you shared a special bond with this man, who in spite of being a couple of generations older, loved you more than he loved his son. And the feeling was mutual.
Watching Mr.Chari succumb to Alzheimer’s after multiple disorders was probably the toughest thing I’ve had to do. A brave man that he was, here was someone who had till a few days ago, had survived 3 major heart attacks, a couple of haemorrhages and a bypass surgery(when they discovered 8 blocks in the veins that pump in blood). For someone who had always kept busy, I can imagine the trauma he had to undergo after being confined to bed and losing almost all his sensory perception.
I quote Shakespeare here –
“Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.”
Mr.Chari, ultimately succumbed to dementia, with a final fatal attack of fits. The family was shattered. His long, valiant ordeal finally came to an end.
And yes, Mr.Chari was my grandfather – the man the family loved and looked up to.
Thatha, you will be missed.
“They are not dead who live, In hearts they leave behind.” - Hugh Robert Orr
