Death in the Family
The call came in the wee hours of the morning. My cell phone showed me that it was my sister calling from Canada; and given the number and the hour, it could only be bad news. I steeled myself for the worst as my mind struggled back up to the surface from slumber's dark depths.
Dad was in palliative care; being kept comfortable as his life ebbed away. Over three years of nursing home life as his balance, speech and memories slipped away, and now this, after choking on some food led to lung problems. His legal directive not to resuscitate him or prolong his life if it was on the edge kicked in, and my stepmother, who had visited him once or twice a day for that whole time, had to begin to let him go.
Our main problem up in Svaneti was: how soon can we go, and to whom can we leave care of the cows and chickens? A neighbor for the first week, then my wife's brother, who would come for the last two weeks. Pack up and dash off. We must reach Zugdidi in time to get to the open banks on a Saturday, buy air tickets for Sunday, and arrive on Monday. Thankful for a very comfortable car to drive.
After some gathering of funds in Zugdidi, and flustering the poor travel agent who wasn't used to Canadian flights, we had the earliest available journey sewn up. Tbilisi-Istanbul, eight hours' layover, on to Montreal, twelve more hours there, then to Edmonton where my sister would pick us up.
Soon after buying the tickets, on our way west out of Zugdidi, the second phone call from my sister came: he was dead. Our soonest would not be soon enough.
The flights became something we had to do, with sorrow waiting for us but also reunions with family and friends. The long journey must be made, and even though we would not see him alive, we would be there for the funeral and a couple of weeks after.
Today, with the funeral's rituals and words and songs and hugs over, the great gathering of all whose lives had intersected with my father's over months or years or decades, I can look back and say: It was good, today. I had the chance to offer up a third of the eulogy, and we immediate family have nestled in each other's comfort since then. Tomorrow and until we go, chances to see all sorts of people thanks to a kind loan of a car by friends, without which we would really be stuck in this vast country and its culture of personal vehicles and minimal public transport.
And: It's been good. Not just the day, but the life which led up to it. Our blended family of five children, two and three, has become one in which there are no "steps". Widowed Dad and divorced Mom got engaged after one date, and their marriage lasted over forty years before death parted them, a run to the surprise of some skeptics and the delight and relief of us all.
He and I weren't much alike, but it's no use bemoaning that I don't have more of his hands-on skills which would be so useful on the house and land. I do have more creativity, but he was so practical. But I still, more and more, see him looking back at me from the mirror... although now, with him gone to the next plane of existence, I will both fill his shoes and change them to my own stride and direction.
Dad, Dad... gone now, deeply loved and sorely missed but only waiting for us, as faith reminds me.
Tony Hanmer has lived in Georgia since 1999, in Svaneti since 2007, and been a weekly writer for GT since early 2011. He runs the “Svaneti Renaissance” Facebook group, now with over 1350 members, at www.facebook.com/groups/SvanetiRenaissance/
He and his wife also run their own guest house in Etseri:
www.facebook.com/hanmer.house.svanetilong trek
Tony Hanmer