I did not expect to feel so settled therefore pleasantly surprised. The first few days back were brutal and then it sinks in that this is it. And I have to move forward. Small routines, like waking up at 5 and sitting with a candle lighting up the serene face in the photograph. The candle flickers on and I brace myself to get through the next step: just get ready and get through that door....
The siblings sounds so grown up now when they call. They want to see how I am doing as I am here by myself. They apologise for asking questions about this and that related to our loss. "Do you feel as if you grew up twice, Didi? Once when Pappa died and again now" Oh, they were so little. And to think now they stand taller than I do.
The void is what got to me at first until I look inward and in doing so fill in the gaps.
And the circle of love that held me this week: the children with their unconditional love, Deval with his no-nonsense management of day to day matters, the students who scan my face for signs of grief and even when I am not teaching them, pass my door asking " Are you okay, Ms. Karnad-Jani" They sometimes just stand there and watch me go about my filing and marking and then they say bye and off they go, reassured that I will make it through until I see them again.
My sisters at school, with an early morning hug, a passing smile, a kind word. And the stoic presence of the brothers who stand beside me; the banter, the silent glance, the wave across the hallway.
I am thankful for so much love, so many blessings. A new year, a new me. Amma has left me with enough to get me through the rest of my life. She has left me the resilience to face each day, the grace to give thanks, the courage to keep standing. And above all to believe in her oft repeated reminder: This too shall pass.
Three weeks ago, I remember sitting and observing myself beside her still form. Today, I marvel at the innate strength she left in each of us.
This too is immortality.
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