On Saturday, my Pappa's teacher passed away. He was a brilliant mathematician and an ardent follower of the arts. He was also my uncle, in that special Amchi way where people know their roots are intertwined yet with the loss of one link, it is possible to lose a dropped thread into the ball of yarn.
I sit with a rapidly cooling cup of tea beside me. I am reflecting on the single thread that ties the grieving family with my own moment in December 2010: when one loves a parent deeply and completely, one does find the courage to say to them: you are tired now. It is okay if you want to go. I will always love you. Four years ago I had done that too. The relief that the one you love is not living a life trapped inside their failing body but is free of this cage to let their spirit soar with each sunrise is perhaps the most unselfish love of all.
What does it mean to live on the path set for me, for us? What does it mean to wake up and look for a familiar form, hear a beloved voice,in the neighbouring room, reach for the phone once a week or daily to chat? What does it mean to know that one is surrounded by people who love the departed as deeply and richly and are as evolved spiritually, to be there, unconditionally for one another. That perhaps is the lasting legacy.
Because that is not a given. Not all families stand strong after the pillar is gone. The glue dissolves and bits and pieces fall off. That is why that which is precious must be cherished.
And through the tears, we continue to reach out for those who love us and we cobble together our new normal. One where now, we are the elders. Amee chi mhalgadeen.
Fast forward to a time when our children will pay us tribute. May we make them as proud as our forefather and foremothers have made us.
On this heartheavy Sunday evening, my writing is not as coherent as I would like it to be. It will have to do. This is the way, of grieving, of reflecting. This is the way of giving thanks that I am fortunate enough to have lived in the same slice of time as the Elder we honoured today.
I must practise walking now, for that is indeed a tough act to follow.
