Àdieu Nana

Estrella Rodricks was many things, a devoted wife, a loving mother, an adoring sister, an affectionate grandmother, a doting great grand-mother. She was all these and she was my Nana. 

She loved her kids, their kids and her great-grand kids in equal measure.

Yesterday as she breathed her last at home, my mind started playing out my memories of her, 

Bombay in my child's mind, was my grand-mother's house. I would proudly tell friends and neighbours sundry, every summer vacation that I'm going to my Nana's house. There, I knew, I would be welcomed with open arms with my grandma in her 3-4th nightie and spectacles. She would make me her Goan fish curry, a taste that I have never been able to replicate and still seek out in every fish curry I eat. 

She learnt Hindi to talk to her son-in-law and grand-kids. Although my dad spoke English, she still made the effort to learn his mother-tongue. Her Hindi, in typical Goan fashion, had it's own unique features but that never deterred her from speaking.

On days when I was sick and my mum couldn't take leave, she would leave me at my Nana's, rest assured that she would take care of me. My Nana in true grandma style would nurse back to health, because she never took No for an answer. 

My Nana's house was my safe heaven. Happiness, sadness, anger, confusion, she was there for me through it all. When things bothered me, I went to her. When I had good news or bad news, I went to her. When I was stressed about the way things were going, I went to her. She was always there, with a patient ear and her sound advice. Her faith in God rock solid and her belief, that good things are always in store. 

When matrimonial advertisements that insisted on 'tall, fair, slim girls' angered me to no end, she held my hand, calmed me down and taught me something that I will never forget. 

She was patient, patient when she lost her sight, patient when her hearing capacity was slowly diminishing, patient with the pain that she was under. Not once did she complain. Her rosary in hand or under her pillow, Jesus and Mother Mary always a bead away. 

She taught me the value of steadfastness. Everything I learnt from her, I learnt through her as a living example. She was hardworking and kind. Not once do I remember returning home empty stomach after visiting her. Even when she couldn't move much, she was always willing to share her own fruit, biscuit or porridge with me. Such was her love. 

It breaks my heart to have not been there with her as she took her last breath, to throw that one handful of mud as she was laid in the grave, to say goodbye. 

I love you Nana, thank you for being you and for loving me as only you could.