“Where you want to go? “Cheap, Cheap price” “Madam, Madam, I just want to talk”
“Hello” “What country?” “What are you looking for? “Come to my shop” “Beautiful scarf for a beautiful lady” “Do you remember me? “I remember you” “Massage madam? Good price for you” “Yes?, Please” “Are you married?
These are only some of the things you hear during a 5-minute walk in Varanasi.
Dashaswmedha Ghat during the Poirnima festival
One of the main streets
Varanasi is intense. Lonely planet describes it as “In your face” and that is true. Everything hits you right at once. The noises, food, smells, death, prayers, shit, urine, beauty, colors, men pissing in the streets, homeless beggars with no legs, children asking for food, babies carrying babies, cows, dogs, puppies,monkeys, kindness,poverty, wealth, danger, drugs, romance and sex. Within my first 24 hours, I encountered it all. After spending all night on an overnight train, this first day in Varanasi seems like some sort of foggy yet wonderful dream.
The Ganges at sunrise
A father bathing his child in the Ganges
While watching the bodies burn at night, I felt like I was in some surreal alter universe. I also could not help but think about my Dad (Mitch) and how sterile his cremation was. I remember in 2009 when my sisters, mother and I went to the cremation place. Everything was shiny, new and expensive. I pushed the button that generated the conveyer belt his body was on. My family and I watched his body slowly diverge into the shiny and clean oven. I was not crying or even appearing to look upset. I thought about this in Varanasi, as I watched the family members laugh and talk next to the fire as their loved ones burned. My father loved bonfires. He was not a “shiny” and “expensive” kind of man. He would have liked to have been cremated in Varanasi. Or at least in a bonfire in a backyard with all his friends and family members drinking beer and smoking joints around him. Even though he was not cremated in this fashion, his memorial service/celebration was very similar to it. Bonfire and all.
Boats, bathers, and bodies burning
A bonfire for my father at his memorial celebration
Lots of firewood for the cremations that take place in Varanasi. This is only one of the many piles. My father loved firewood and he often told the story of when his firewood was once stolen at a festival. He could never understand how one man could take another man’s firewood.
The day my father was cremated, I remember feeling angry and stressed out about school. I was about to graduate and I had a lot of assignments due and I was worried about completing them all. Looking back at this time in my life, it seems insane. I just cremated my father. Why was I worried about school? I think, maybe, school was how I coped. The day of his actual death, I was so worried about calling the school I was student teaching in to tell them I would not be there. This felt like the most important thing in the universe. Again, looking back, my Dad had died less than 2 hours earlier. I was a student teacher. The real teacher was there. Nobody would even miss me! But I had to call the school.
Memorial for my Pops
My amazing sisters and I wearing cowboy boots for our dad at his memorial.
My childhood bedroom was converted into the room that my Dad received hospice care in and eventually died in. It was later used as a memorial space for him at his celebration of life.
It was too hard to actually feel what was going on. When I think about my life, and the difficult experiences I have encountered, I have always had some sort of school to hide behind when things got too tough. I don’t know if “hide behind” is the correct term but school has always been an outlet for me to focus my energy on when “real life” got hard. I think this started in middle school and continued on through high school, college, my teaching career and finally graduate school.
I graduated from college about a month after my Dad died.
Student teaching became my refuge while my dad was dying. This classroom became my little haven.
I have always loved school and learning. I wonder now that I am not as stressed, I have a relationship with God and I meditate daily how wonderful school really could be!? Perhaps, now that all my student loans are paid off I should go back (again!) and experience school differently. Or, perhaps it is time to start that preschool on Kauai that I often think about starting.
Me at the Dashaswmedha Ghat during the Poirnima festival.
I sat down to charge my iPod and I just started writing. I wanted to write down the comments on the top of this post so that I did not forget them and I began writing about my Dad. Emotions, feelings, sadness and happiness have been emerging from me while in Varanasi. It took me a couple days to really appreciate and begin to “feel” what is taking place within me while here. At times, I have had this hyper excessive energy. And other times, I have had this sad longing feeling. I have used this time and these feelings and emotions to meditate, pray and think about my dad.
Age 6
Age 15
While in Texas, my dad’s brother gave us a ride around Houston on his private plane. Mitch was so excited on this day. I was 17.
Before my Dad got real sick. I think I was about 22 here.
Sprinkling my dad in the Ganges. He is now all over the Mainland USA, on Maui, Big Island, Oahu, Molokai, Kauai, in Thailand, Burma, Cambodia, Vietnam, Nepal and now India. I plan is to one day have his reach every continent.
loved it, I will read it again when I get back from work, it’s been awhile since Mitch died, but I have been thinking about him too. I think it’s good that you and your family are able to talk about his life and death. He loved you all and despite his various weaknesses was a loving and proud Dad. He’d be very proud of what you are doing now
Hi Owen, Thanks for reading and and for the kind words! Yes, I think it’s important to talk about death. In Varanasi, death is so in your face that I can’t help but think about it. I actually got bumped into by a dead person being carried on a bamboo stretcher! I have been missing my Dad a lot!
Beautiful post.
Thanks! ?
Touching Post.
Thank you, Rain! XO
i am loving your sharings, Mel! you are such a brave adventurer! big hugs!
Thanks so much for reading and commenting. While in India, I have been thinking a lot about you. You randomly keep popping into my head. Love to you and your wonderful family!
Sweet Mel, what a deep journey you are having… Glad you have time away from the pace of life in the U.S. to think and process and feel what you feel. Be safe. Be joyful xxx
Thank you,Sarah! Love you guys?
Hugs Mel! This was a great read. I understand your feelings as I have had the same ones when it comes to my mom. Losing a parent is never and easy thing. Not a day goes by that I don’t wish I had her back even for just a moment to hear her voice. <3
Hi Angie, It’s the hardest thing in the world. For me, intense feelings of sadness and missing my Dad all of a sudden hit me out of the blue. But with that said, sometimes I am hot with feelings of love and happiness and I know he is around. Thanks for reading and sharing your thoughts regarding your mom ? It’s a club I wish we were not both a part of.
Wow! Loved it! Family is Love is so many forms! Thank you, Melanie for sharing intimate thoughts and feelings and living them in a way to honor your late Father! Your journey is becoming mine, although I am not a world traveler, I think about my parents and resonate in the feelings you share…Thank you, from the bottom of my heart..
Thank you so much for commenting such thoughtful and kind words. Comments like yours give me the energy to keep writing.
Thank you Melanie,
I loves reading about Mitch and all of the pictures…
One of Varanasi’s gifts…xoxoxo vicki
Hi Vicki,
Thanks so much for reading! Yes, Varanasi is a special place for sure!
Can’t stop crying. Missing our poppa like woah. And Melanie your writing is so amazing and true and honest and life changing. Thank you for doing this for yourself. The adventure and the writing. And thank you for doing it for others. What you are putting out there needs to be put out there for more then one reason. I love you sweet sunshine eyes. And I’m so glad we got to spend so many years with out dad.
Thank you, sweet sis! I love you so much.