Joey Kurian

  The Bird On My Shoulder
  By Joey Kurian
The sudden death of a friend or a loved one hits everyone like a shattering assault from the unknown. In 1995 during Christmas my father suffered a sudden stroke. My sister and I brought him to the hospital. I helped the hospital staff to push his trolley to his ward; My Dad was looking around anxiously like he needed someone to hold the world and pain at bay, to create a small space of peace in which he could come to terms with his near death experience.

We transferred him to his bed and he began to call out my name and I went and held his hand. I looked at him still looking around. He could not talk but a solitary tear rolled down his face. I wiped the tear away and tighten my grip on his hand. It dawned on me that I had hardly touched him since I was a kid. We use to go for after dinner strolls -that strong grip of his hand protecting me from running away or getting into trouble that memory seemed like eons ago. I was not working then for the next two months I spent everyday with him bathing ,shaving and caring for his every need. Due to a new project I had to leave for China. When I told my Dad he was not happy about it, He was sad and it felt like i was dumping him. I left with a heavy heart. This is where I became a hostage to his fears.

My Dad was a resilient and stubborn man. In my absence he worked hard in his physiotherapy and slowly was able to walk again with the help of a walking stick. He never wanted to stay at home, He would limp out secretly and go meet his friends who would hang out in garden near my home. He fell many times on the street and I did not know about it till after his death when his friends told me. They said no matter what he did not need help he would slowly pick himself up. I was in China feeling uneasy and could not work at all. I decided to return to Singapore and got a job working the night shift so I could take care of my Dad in the day. I am glad cause this was our bonding time because as a teenager I could not see eye to eye with him in anything. In 2000 I was getting jaded working the night shift so I joined a radio station as a disc-jockey. The job was demanding and tedious, I hardly saw my Dad. I use to come home late and he would write notes and leave them in my room. I was too stressed with work to take note of his messages till one night he wrote”Joey I talk to a bird every morning asking it if I am going to die today”.This bird answered the question one March morning in 2001.I was not there that morning when my father passed away. I did’nt get to tell him all the things I had to say. Like the saying goes”Man does not treasure anything till its gone”.
The assault from the unknown had hit me. The man I had shared my aspirations and my ups and downs with had gone. I was so sad because I never got the chance to apologize for the agony he went through raising me. He made many sacrifices for me his only son. He had high expectations for me but I let him down by threading my own path into the world. After his death I understood how he felt alone those six years before his death. He was like a man standing on a railway track waiting for the death locomotive to pick him up. He spoke like a lighting rod full of clarity. A clarity that I did not understand till I began to come out of my depressive shell.

It’s been eight years since his death. No words can define what he meant to me. I will keep all those beautiful memories of him in my heart. He was my creator. He passed down his loving compassion to me. I wish I could take a time machine back in time to show him how much I care and thank him for being there when I needed him. God took him away it is for our own good and I know he is smiling down on me.

“The Finality of it all”:
Death is not about spirit but it’s about bodies and their gradual failure. It is a time when fear and pain can loom so large that it will blot out everything else. The dying person really needs to be comfortable with loved ones who understand, care and see to their every need. At the end of our parents lives we the children must take care of them. Why? Because they bought us into this unforgiving world and we the children should be the ones to help them on their way.