Story of a Stoic

One is never born great.It is the will power and action that make one great …nbsp;nbsp;nbsp;nbsp;nbsp;nbsp;nbsp;nbsp;MK SoniOn 27th September last year a septuagenarian, on his way back home, stumbled and fell face-first because of two motorcyclists zig-zagging through the street. The brutal accident left him with five facial fractures, a punctured lung, broken wrists, and several broken teeth. He was immediately rushed to the nearest hospital. Soon after, his condition began steadily deteriorating and he was shifted to the ICU and thereafter to a ventilator.nbsp;After his second cardiac arrest, the doctors were more or less certain that his days were counted.nbsp;What followed in those 6 days at the ICU was nothing short of a miracle. He came out of the ventilator exactly on the 5th day of admission and to the utter astonishment of the doctors, was found walking inside the ICU. He had never been one to keep still or give up and this accident wasnt going to slow him down. An athlete and sportsman, the spirit of joie de vivre and perseverance of this man could put any of my younger readers to shame. The doctors admitted they had never seen anyone, let alone an 80-year old, come out of such a critical condition through sheer force of will.nbsp;On the 11th day, he walked out of the hospital with nothing but a cast around his right arm.nbsp;The man I talk about so proudly is my dad. This day, 14th January, last year, my dad left us for his heavenly abode and the past year has been emotionally turbulent, to say the least. The death of a parent is one of the most difficult times of a person’s life. After all, transitions bring painful disequilibrium to our lives and when they are imposed upon us, they are even more distressing. But as I slowly settle into this new reality, learning to accept his absence, I realize, how, even in his death, as in his life, he has given us something to treasure for our entire lifetimes.nbsp;The biggest surprise, perhaps, came in the form of many testimonies we heard during funeral service and follow up condolence service held by the resident community. They shared many stories and spoke very fondly of him. It was then, for the first time, I and my family came to know that unbeknownst to us my dad had been helping many people in known and unknown to him. My mother knew, of course. She had always been his most trusted companion and confidante. Then one by one more people came in and shared anecdotes about him and how he had helped them through stressful times. In the end, we were shocked, speechless, and very very proud.nbsp;Dad’s funeral stirred something in me. It was as if someone had held open his book of life and thrown light on the pages that had nothing to do with us, with him being a family man or him being my dad. At that moment, he was remembered, loved, and admired by countless others for being a good human being and a good samaritan.I think it’s human nature to see our family members, especially our parents and children as an extension of our own selves rather than as fully distinct individuals. I realized I had been doing the same. So I decided to take a step back and look at my dad for the man he was.nbsp;I cannot recount many stories of my dad from my childhood because he almost always preferred to stay on the sidelines-- calm, collected, like a pillar of support. He was someone who would love you very much without ever putting it into so many words. We just knew and felt secure with the knowledge that dad would be there if anything were to go wrong.nbsp;And we were right. Once, when I was still in college, he drove 800+ km from Thiruvalla to Mangalore overnight, with only a moments notice, because Id told him I had no money to pay my college fees. The awe I felt that day was no different than what I felt when those two kids spoke about him during the memorial event. And I have been awed and inspired by his sheer resilience and perseverance ever since.The biggest thing Ive learned from him amongst many others is this will and restlessness to push forward, fight, and never give up, no matter the hardship. Towards the end of his days, dad had suffered a stroke resulting in the paralysis of the entire right side. But even that couldnt keep him down for long. Within a month, he had recovered and was walking again. The doctors admitted having never seen such a swift recovery.nbsp;Up until the last day, my father lived his life with the utmost devoutness. No, he didnt lay too much emphasis on church-going or outward display of religiousness. Although, the mother tells me now that he spent time in prayers during the wee hours. From this and many other instances, I gather, dad lived true to the verse, but when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing.After much deliberation, I have realized that in the end, its not about doing a great many things but doing even the little things greatly. To read as ardently, help as eagerly, and live as earnestly as possible.nbsp;Twelve months have passed since he left us and I still find myself living in that state of liminality. But I march on like he would have done. He wasnt one to dwell on history. So I do the same and get ready for the next day.

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