Mend

Here's the back story. My aunt Shivakamy Iyer died while I was competing my Masters in another city. She lived with my grandparents who moved in with us after her demise. This was written about my first few days of moving back home.
Extra info you need to understand this: My mom's name is Lakshmy Iyer, the only Iyer in my house until my grandfather Dr. S. S. Iyer moved in.

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I didn't know what I was coming home to.

My brother and my mom had sent me pictures and long, detailed letters of all that had changed.

They told me what was kept where

They told me who slept where

They told me how they now felt

They even told me how I would feel

“It’s different but good”

They said.

I still wondered what I was coming home to.

My family structure had changed –

I had never lived in a joint family before

I had never lived away from that family before

I had never seen the still, lifeless body of someone with whom I had had such vivid, lively memories before

Memories of playing rummy, of painting napkins, of story-telling in the dead of the night

Of singing.

I had never done a lot of things before –

Until I had done them.

It took a while to readjust.

But they HAD prepared me. It was OK.

So, when the postman said “Iyer” – I knew that it’s not just my mom, this letter could be for my grandfather too.

I didn’t know what I was coming home to

“Shivakamy Iyer” the letter said.