Thursday, January 11, 2007
Ananda. 54. Mentor, Teacher, Father, Friend.
Had an argument with dad again today. He said to me this morning "You go for your professor's wake everyday, but you didn't go once to your [distant-somehow-related-to-you] auntie's wake." I don't even know that auntie, and i don't care whether she lived or died. "That's not the point, she's a relative. Relatives are more important. You go for a wake to pay your respects, not to hang out and chit chat with your friends."
I suppose you have some kind of a point there, but I don't go there to "hang out" with my friends. In a way i'm being there for those who are coming and don't know anyone else. I'm being family to them. And I'm sorry you disapprove, but Ananda was more family to me than she will ever be. When you die i'll be there, every day, every moment, and i will even cry for you which i don't do for anyone else, even though you are such a grumpy irritating old bugger.
In the newspapers they said the campus doctors raced over to try to save Ananda's life. I heard that he took a bus and arrived the same time as those lost paramedics. Everyone in the department did what they could to facilitate their quick arrival, to try to keep Ananda comfortable and alive, but short of picking the paramedics and doctors up and hauling their ass over to the department, there was little else they could do. These things happen, but i wonder if they do have to happen at all.
