The transformation of my Dad was nothing short of a miracle

By Viaan Shaurya

My Dad was a very cheerful person as long as my Mom was alive. We had built a two-room independent set for them on the first floor while we lived on the ground floor.

Things changed, when my Mom passed away. My Dad went into a state of denial. He refused to come down and eat with us as was his practice.  He also started putting a distance between himself and us.

Even my two children who spent so much time with their grandparents earlier started feeling the difference. The same children who would run to him whenever I would get angry now became a source of annoyance. Often, he would shoo them away.

He became irritable, rude and would fly into a rage at the smallest of things. What was most difficult to accept was his distrust.

It was as if we had become his enemies. My wife was aghast one day, when my father told her to stop treating him “like a burden”.

Despite our best efforts, he continued to distance himself. His complaints started going up. He came to be possessed by a strange, obstinate streak. He would not eat the food that we all had, and insisted that he be served different food.

He would shout at the maid who had served him and my mother so well for years.  He also became very finicky about his health. Everyday there was a new complaint. Sometimes it was knee pain, sometimes constipation and sometimes breathing problems.

He expected a doctor to be summoned for the smallest of ailments. Any questioning would lead to arguments and fierce denunciation of me and my wife.

The darkest day for us was when he complained to our next-door neighbour that “we shunned him and treated him like a leper when he needed us most”.

My children, fearful of his temper, started avoiding him and we would go less frequently to his room – not on purpose but because we did not know what to do.

We felt very helpless. Normalcy hung by a slender thread in our house.

One morning while I was getting ready for work, my father stormed down and demanded that his bed be moved below. He wanted to sleep in the courtyard on the ground floor.

We tried to talk him out of it saying this will affect his health. We offered to move to the first floor, so that he could use our room. But he was adamant.

We finally gave in. His bed was brought down to the courtyard. Fortunately, we had a closed courtyard so there was no threat of rain or cold winds. But it was still an open space and not a room.

Our only hope was that he will soon regret his decision and return to his comfortable room upstairs, which had an attached bath, a television, an air conditioner, even a fridge.

But no. We were in for a surprise. After moving into the courtyard, he started mellowing down. The complaints went down a notch. He started eating with us. He even started teasing the children, and spending time with them.

One day he shocked us by going into the kitchen and making an omelette. This was the first time he had done this after my mother’s death.

I and my wife would exchange surprised glances as we saw him becoming more like his earlier self. It was not that the transformation was instant. The change took a good three months to become noticeable.

The change was hard to explain. Maybe, as our neighbour rationalised, our Dad wanted company. The passing of our mother had left him single and alone. Being alone in the room upstairs started affecting his equanimity. He turned inwards, his misery started feeding on him. His behaviour became irrational.

We only saw our hurt. We could not fathom his emotions. He needed us more than ever.

He died a year after the passing of my mother. During this period, he continued to live in the courtyard. All our pleas to move him to comfortable quarters went unheeded.

But we did not complain. We thanked God that we were once again a home where my father felt wanted and we could live together without unpleasantness.

Read: Saluting the happy memories left behind by my Dad