Shiiiiiz.

Thanks for all kind words and thoughts throughout this last week chickadees. It's always nice knowing that your peeps are thinking about you no matter what part of the world they or you are in.

Access to the interbutts has been non-existent until Sunday when I figured out the glories of shitty Dialog WAP. (Is that what it's called? Meh.) This comes to you from my Uncle's house in Boralesgumwa. Before I get into the nitty gritty deets of what's been going down since we landed last week I figured I'd post some of the lesser emo journal excerpts because I'm a lazy bastard.

Monday, March 3, 2008 10:17 PM.

As much as you know it's coming and however much you try to prepare yourself for it, death really has the ability to take you completely and utterly off guard. I had just come back with Abi from Union Station after dropping off Debbie (who was en route to Montreal). The two of us were sitting in the kitchen just shooting the breeze. Neither of us knowing that this would be the last we'd be seeing each other for a good long time. Abs was getting her shiz together to leave, Ammi was watching a ridiculous Hindi movie, Thathi had Oliver in the folds of his sarong. We were laughing at the ESL subtitles, "emotion" became "a motion."

Then the call came.

Sudden phone calls in the middle of the night freak my parents out. We got the news that Loku Mammah had died in the wee hours of the morning in 1991. Even now the thought is always looming in the back of our minds that any phone call coming in at that ungodly hour is definitely going to be a bad one.

But It was 7:00 PM Sunday night. Nothing ever noteworthy happens on a Sunday night. Johnny Bappa was the one who called, and I picked up.

Me: Ah, Johnny! How how??
Him: Pappa's dead.
Me: ...what?

I thought I had heard incorrectly. It's not unusual for us to get phone calls/text messages saying that Pappa's in the hospital. The man did have a heart condition.

Him: *voice cracking*
Me: Johnny Bappa?
Him: *unintelligible* Pappa is gone.
Me: Oh shit. Hang on, let me get Thathi. *turns to Thathi,* Something has happened to Pappa.

I knew what had happened to Pappa. But I didn't want to be the one to break the news.

Johnny Bappa couldn't speak, he ended up passing the phone to Bola.

Bola: Bappi, Pappa passed away this morning
Thathi: *frozen*
Bola: It just happened, we're on our way to Ratmalana. *voice cracks* We've called the ambulance.

I grabbed the phone. Thathi wasn't moving, he was just holding the phone in his hand with a blank expression on his face and tears welling up in his eyes.

Me: Bola, what the hell is going on? Who's with Mamma?

And that's what began it all.

I feel utterly overwhelmed right now. I've got two suitcases with my life packed into them. This afternoon I went to the bank and withdrew my entire (paltry) life savings and made them up into traveler's cheques. I didn't expect to be leaving for life in London with a funeral thrown in between. I never really thought I'd go without getting a chance to properly kick off my farewell tour in Toronto.

I also need to wrap my head around the notion of going back to my grandparents home and finding it half empty.

I don't have that many memories associated with my family or life in Sri Lanka prior to the time we migrated. When we left from my grandparents' home in Ratmalana all those years ago, Thathi's side of the family cried as if he had died. My grandparents were inconsolable. Maybe I watch too many Wes Anderson movies but recalling the day we left in my mind's eye it's always been in slow motion.

Now we're going back to an actual funeral house.

Tuesday, March 4, 2007 2:22 PM (Toronto time. i have no effing clue what the time is in Colombo).

The last two hours of the London - Colombo leg are always the worst. It feels like there's not enough time to get a good snooze and to even try and watch a movie it's impossible since the a/v equipment gets packed up during the final hour.

Usually this is where we're left to excitedly chatter about the plans for the coming weeks in Colombo. How great it'll be to get away from the shit Canadian weather, overeat, see the family and shop.

I'm hoping we don't make it in on time. Actually scrap that, I was sort of wishing that we'd just miss our connecting flight from London altogether. Neither of us are looking forward to the reality that's going to face us once we land. The truth of the situation is living halfway across on the other side of the world has its benefits. I get to avoid a lot of drama and issues that would normally be our problem. (Thathi's the eldest. Yipee.)

On Monday morning while we were scrambling to get ourselves together before leaving Thathi had to go into the office to tie up some last minute things so I was tasked with calling Johnny Bappa and giving him our flight information. He in turn filled me in on the funeral arrangements that had been tentatively made. I'm glad I'm not there.

If things had worked out exactly according to the plan I had set out for myself when I last left Sri Lanka I would've been in the thick of all of this. My target was to be in Colombo by mid-February. I'm not sad that I didn't get a chance to say goodbye because no one really did. Papa died in his sleep, we knew the next heart attack would take him but no one knew exactly when that would be. The cowardly side of me doesn't think I'd be able to handle my grieving grandmother or uncles.

As Labro and Alby fully well know, I don't usually do well with tears. I don't even remember the last time I cried. It's not because I have problems with people expressing their emotions, it's more because I'm an emotional stunted bastard so I never know how to appropriately react vis a vis a mascara stained face. (Hey Labro!)

Another small issue is that of the body.

Dead bodies?

DO NOT WANT.

I blame this on Ammi. When Amammah died she forced Aiya, myself, Vindhiya and Paul to kiss her before the casket was closed.

Eww?

damn.straight.

The very last memory that I have of Amammah is of me bracing and very awkwardly moving towards her ashy forehead. *shudder* Just thinking about it brings back the memory of the coldness on my lips. Due to this childhood trauma I make it a point to never actually "view" anything when I go to viewings.

Enter reason to be an utter coward #2.

In Sri Lanka (so I hear) it is common for people to have the viewings of their loved ones in their own homes. Not in funeral parlours or in Churches. Apparently this gives a chance to all the members of the neighbourhood to come around and have one last gawk. As a result of the above scarring alongside my screaming inner Puritan I find something inherently creepy about looking at a corpse. But that's just me. (When I die it's going to be closed casket thank ye.)

Thathi tried his best to strong arm my uncles into strong arming my grandmother not to go the Sri Lankan route and opt for a viewing at a funeral parlour. Unfortunately it would seem that his three little brothers hold no sway over their mom.

When I get to my grandparents' home in approximately another 1 hour and 30 minutes I will be greeted in the living room by my grandfather in his brown suit chillaxing in his casket.

Wednesday, March 5, 2008 8:00 AM

It has been many years since the entire family has been at my grandparent's home for our arrival. Usually they pop in later on in the day since our flights tend to land really early. I didn't know how everyone would be when we came through the gate at 4 this morning. Mamma was fortunately sleeping. I met Bola on the driveway before heading into the house and hurriedly asked her wtf was going on with the body. Didn't really fancy walking into the the livingroom and seeing a casket where the coffee table used to be. (Instead it was over by where the dinning table is normally and horror of horrors, the head was right by the spot I usually sit. *shudder*)

The autistic cat has not entered the house since Monday morning. Instead he stalks around the garden, chills out on top of the water tank or makes the rare appearance near the bedroom windows. He's either very perceptive, and like me is freaked out about dead bodies or he's just a skittish cat who hates people. I will not judge.

I'm exhausted as is everyone else. The rest of the family has been going on little to no sleep since Monday. I don't know what to make of anything. The ride from the airport to the house was so unremarkable it was sad. Reaffirmed to me that Colombo has lost its charm. I just felt suffocated looking out the windows at the piles of crap and feeling absolutely apathetic. The feeling that there is nothing left to be gleaned from the confines of this city. I never really thought I could feel that way about any place, because it's never like that when I'm driving from Pearson back to the house.

I suppose that I'll never consider Colombo or even this country to be my "home away from home" because I've never felt so suffocated and restricted in Toronto. Mind you yes, I've felt the need to run away screaming because of utter despondency, but never a feeling like this.

Maybe it's just the humidity?