Rani, as I remember her

Rani, as I remember her

By Joe Rivera

Early Wednesday morning, August 3, 2016, our youngest daughter, Rani Rivera, was found lifeless inside her Toronto west end apartment. The two Toronto police detectives who came to our apartment in the east end the following early morning described the scene to Patty and me as we both struggled to comprehend the enormous gravity of the news.

There were no signs of forcible entry and injuries inflicted by someone else. Rani was found lying on the bathroom floor with the medications she was taking for depression.

This was not the first time Rani attempted to take life into her own hands. We have lost count, but this last was most probably the seventh time. The police have a record. For the last fifteen or so years, Rani was in and out of the hospital.

Rani was a tortured soul. We have noticed the sudden changes in her moods and emotional state right after she lost her very close friend to cancer when they were in Grade 5. She managed to graduate from elementary school, though, even promising to us she would at least get two medals: one for English, and the other, for French. It wasn’t a lot compared to her older sister Isobel who hauled almost all the medals when she graduated.

Our other daughters would certainly forgive me if I say that Rani was the prettiest and smartest among the four of them (not that Jenny and Kim and Isobel aren’t). Her intelligence was innate and intuitive. We came to Canada when she was six years old. When she entered Grade 1, her teacher put her in a group that needed to be taught ESL. That was because Rani was always silent and kept to herself; she never spoke a word except when asked. But when the teacher noticed she spoke English far more advanced than the rest of the group she was put into, the teacher quickly pulled her out and placed her in the regular class. At age eight, she was already reading novels advanced for her age. We remembered she loved Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities, which she read more than a dozen times.

1990 at Markham Park

There were days when I would quote from a Newsweek article I just read and Rani would finish the entire quote, meaning she was reading what I was reading at her young age. Whenever she went to the library with Isobel to borrow books, I had to accompany them to borrow the ones they like to read. Otherwise, the librarian would not allow them, too young for their age, she would tell us.

High school was a tumultuous period in her life as she bounced from one school to the other, perhaps four in all, including an alternative school. Her principals would call us to tell that Rani wasn’t submitting her assignments in class. When we asked Rani why, she said she was bored and hated formal instruction. So her teachers gave her extra assignments to perk up her interest, like advanced reading, books not for her age. But Rani continued to regress telling us she had already read those advanced books. So Rani eventually would drop of out of high school, contented she could continue reading on her own the books she wanted without attending class.

Meanwhile, Rani tried working as a coffee server, a juicer, even a bartender and a few stints as a banquet server. As she was moving from one odd job to another, she started drinking and she began to fall into episodes and bouts of depression. She was almost an alcoholic by the time she hit rock-bottom.

When she turned twenty-one, it dawned on her that she was interested after all in pursuing a university education, like her sister Isobel, the one sister who kept studying, from McGill in Montreal to HEC Paris.

Rani in Paris on 2009

But Rani didn’t have a high school diploma, or school marks to qualify for admission in post-secondary education. Later, she found out from the University of Toronto that she could undertake a one-year bridging program and if she passed, she would be allowed to continue to pursue a degree or program she wanted. She busted her tails off for one year which she passed with flying colours. Not only that, the University of Toronto gave her a one-year scholarship. It was the chance in her life she was waiting for. She devoted two years of painstaking work, enrolling in courses in classical English and esoteric Russian literature. Then she suddenly fell into remission, the cycle of depression started to torment her once more.

She met William and became involved in the arts, music and poetry. But their relationship was rocky at times and this became the dangerous and suicidal period in her life, attempting to snap her young life one time after the other, although she failed miserably every time she tried. After five years, Rani and William broke up, with Rani bringing home to our house her dog Onegin, a Golden Retriever she rescued from a shelter when he was about a month old. At that time, Rani had an accident where she suffered third-degree burns on her left foot from votive candles left lit while she fell asleep. It was Onegin who saved her life and probably the apartment she was sharing with William from burning.

For a few months, Rani moved back with us, with Onegin in tow. I would take care of Onegin for the next five years while Rani tried to make sense of her life. She would enrol again at UofT, but her depression was too much to handle and she would eventually drop out of school. Trying to help Rani to get back on her feet, I found out by sheer chance the School for Social Entrepreneurship Program that was being introduced in 2012 in Toronto. Patty and I encouraged Rani to enrol in the nine-month course and she was admitted on scholarship after she presented a program she wanted to develop for the disabled, especially those with psychiatric issues. Rani completed the program, as one of its initial cohort, and soon she found work coordinating an out-of-school program for young children. Eventually she would join Progress Place in Toronto, a recognized leader in psychosocial rehabilitation. After one year with Progress Place, Rani would assist in their community initiative in Weston-Mt. Dennis in developing a small clubhouse that offers health and recreational services to the community.

Rani and Seth Blender in Geneva, Oct. 2015

It was during the last five years when Rani was rediscovering herself that she met Seth. They would enter into a relationship that lasted almost five years. Seth had also been involved in some of our family activities: during Isobel’s wedding in Montreal and a visit to Geneva last year when Isobel gave birth to their first child, our first grandchild. They had been to Cuba and Prague together and we were glad Rani had settled into a more peaceful life with Seth.

Patty and I didn’t entirely know what happened after Rani and Seth broke up. Seth was a decent person, humble in his own way and thoughtful and loving to Rani. Rani moved out to her new apartment on Dundas Street. Then a month after, she would take her life and we now face a blank wall as we continue to search for clues why Rani made that fateful decision to end what could have been a very rewarding life. She was happy working with the disabled, especially those with mental issues. Maybe because she empathized with them and felt their burden deeply, that their affliction also became hers.

I wrote down these notes, quite haphazardly and somewhat inchoately, because I could not bear the thought that I would simply cry alone, unable to let Rani know how I felt whenever she was able to slay her demons. We barely talked to each other during those years she was ravaged by her depression. As any young girl would grow up, she gravitated towards her mom. She talked to Patty and Patty talked to me, so I knew what was going on. Perhaps Rani and I suffered the same depression, but I was older and had more years and experience behind me and, of course, I always have Patty by my side.

I now find myself crying whenever I am alone, unlike Patty who has been more profuse in her grief. I have encouraged Patty to let on the tears, because that’s the best way to ease the pain of our loss. Patty has never seen me cry, but inside, I have been crying a lot since that fateful Tuesday. Rani passed away at the young age of 35, living only half of what I have lived so far. As a father, and just like any father, it was my most fervent wish that all my children would survive me.

Rani is at peace now, and we pray, in the Creator’s loving arms. Godspeed our youngest, may you find your eternal reward in heaven soon.