Susee Mable's Silent Meditations

I used to suffer from terrible bouts of asthma as a child. The attacks were so bad, that I mercifully have blocked the finer details from memory. My mother Susee Mable, ever so lovingly would stay up all night, keeping watch and desperately try to get her youngest child to breathe. My father exhausted from work, could never stay awake. He would drift into a deep, snore-filled slumber. My brother, bless his heart, tried his best but he was just a kid and would often pass out into a well deserved sleep (the responsibility of looking after his little sister while Mum worked her shifts, fell on his capable young shoulders). Anyone could tell that it was absolute heartbreak for Mum to witness her child suffer so, as it would be for any mother. She never thought much of her own varied health ailments, let alone the exhaustion of: running a household, raising two children, dealing with the foibles of married life and extended kin all whilst delving daily into the rigors of the n...

Posted by Suhasini

Susee aged seventeen Posted by Suhasini

Susee with her student nurses, Sangareddy (1973) Susee with colleagues, District Headquarters Hospital Sangareddy (1973) Susee with her student nurses, District Headquarters Hospital Sangareddy (1973) Student nurse, Vishakhapatnam (1962) Student nurse, Nuzvid (1961) Posted by Suhasini

Lutheran Transfiguration Church, Bhimavaram, August 2, 1971 Dining out circa mid-1980s 43rd Anniversary: August 2, 2014 (See more pics here )  Posted by Raju

Lovely Susee: assorted pics from the Anandaraju family archives Posted by Suhasini

First memory: Yellow flowers in a bed of ice crystals: brown eyes, the closeness and full volume of love, the dewy sweet breath of summer, your face eclipsing the sun. I paced the room quietly, mind racing and heart pounding as images emerged like stills in a vintage projector, a Kodachrome of bright colors and grainy transitions, a lifetime of memories playing out simultaneously: picnicking by the Rideau Canal, camping up at Keswick, Christmases, first days of school, first days of summer, sitting in waiting rooms, waking from surgeries, drinking tea, delicious fish curries, a pristinely white nursing uniform, the cold bite of winter on her cheek, warm hugs and kisses, collectively, a full and complete celebration of life, every moment recorded by memory, magnified and savored, sacred with meaning. That night when I called for an ambulance, I knew in my heart that mom wouldn’t be coming back home. The dispatcher kept me on the line for forty-five minutes assessing the ...