compassion

Day 337

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In the days and weeks after my son passed away, we had a constant stream of people in our house. Sometimes there would be nowhere to sit. Friends would send food as cooking in the house is traditionally not recommended until the cremation has taken place. Sometimes I would tire, but mostly I would be very grateful for these visitors – familiar, friendly, kind faces trying their best to see us through this treacherous reality. Just having them around was comforting. They didn’t have to say or do anything. Not once did I feel like anyone was intruding on anything.

Some of our English friends found this interestingly different from what they were used to. They really saw the beauty in it – a sense of community and collective strength. Crying, hugging, talking about him, drinking tea, having meals and sometimes even laughing and singing together.

Would I really have liked to be left alone when I was so fragile and distraught? I don’t think so. My mother really got that. Being alone was nearly impossible for me. It meant having to face the horror of it without any buffers. I couldn’t do it even after 3-4 months.

Some of the other bereaved parents have shared the same sentiment. It’s not good to be left alone at such a difficult time. It’s nice to be asked by a friend or a colleague to meet up for coffee or go for a walk. There is not much anyone can say to make it much worse than it already is but there are many ways of making it a little bit more bearable. Once again, it comes down to reaching out.

This week I saw my mortgage advisor. We have known each other for at least 4 years. He knew about my son’s death but for some reason he couldn’t acknowledge it. I am sure it is not because he doesn’t feel terrible about it but I wonder what stopped him. Is it really a cultural thing or is it the general discomfort with the issue of mortality or the fear of saying the wrong thing or the fact that nearly a year has gone by since it happened? Whatever it is, it is unnecessary. Saying, “I am sorry you lost your child” is human. Even after 11 months have passed. In this case, time means nothing.

Day 331

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Messages keep rolling in all day long and they sound like I am doing something special.
I am not doing anything. It is just happening. It is involuntary. I am a mere instrument of the Divine.
I couldn’t help what has happened and I can’t help what is happening.

It is as though I have been volunteered while I wasn’t looking.

We have an early start tomorrow as we register at 7 am for the event, a 25 kilometre walk. Wow! Have never walked more than 10 kilometres at one go before. Also, haven’t written a blog or a newspaper article before, never organised a vigil before, never expressed my views on national TV before, never raised so much money for charity before. Have never worked so much with my heart before.

Here’s another poem:

The Suicides

It is hard for us to enter
the kind of despair they must have known
and because it is hard we must get in by breaking
the lock if necessary for we have not the key,
though for them there was no lock and the surrounding walls were supple,
receiving as waves, and they drowned
though not lovingly; it is we only
who must enter this way.

Temptations will beset us, once we are in.
We may want to catalogue what they have stolen.
We may feel suspicion; we may even criticize the décor
Of their suicidal despair, may perhaps feel
It was incongruously comfortable.

Knowing the temptations then
Let us go in
Deep to their despair and their skin and know
They died because words they had spoken
Returned always homeless to them.

– Janet Frame.

Day 330

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Advaita is the expression of the common philosophy that lies at the heart of many religions and philosophies. It means ‘one without a second’. Its most central tenet is that everyone and everything are in essence the expression of one consciousness, irrespective of geography, race, religion or creed. It can be found not only in the East, where it was first taught, but equally at the heart of many western philosophical and religious teachings. The Bible and the works of Plato both express this idea in many places. The works of Shakespeare, too, present aspects of Advaita with extraordinary beauty and clarity.

He is me and I am him.

Here is an excerpt from Thích Nhất Hạnh’s discourse:

I asked the leaf whether it was frightened because it was autumn and the other leaves were falling.

The leaf told me, “No. During the whole spring and summer I was completely alive. I worked hard to help nourish the tree, and now much of me is in the tree. I am not limited by this form. I am also the whole tree, and when I go back to the soil, I will continue to nourish the tree. So I don’t worry at all. As I leave this branch and float to the ground, I will wave to the tree and tell her, “I will see you again very soon.”

That day there was a wind blowing and, after a while, I saw the leaf leave the branch and float down to the soil, dancing joyfully, because as it floated it saw itself already there in the tree. It was so happy. I bowed my head, knowing that I have a lot to learn from the leaf.”

” … So please continue to look back and you will see that you have always been here. Let us look together and penetrate into the life of a leaf, so we may be one with the leaf. Let us penetrate and be one with the cloud or with the wave, to realize our own nature as water and be free from our fear. If we look very deeply, we will transcend birth and death.

Tomorrow, I will continue to be. But you will have to be very attentive to see me. I will be a flower, or a leaf. I will be in these forms and I will say hello to you. If you are attentive enough, you will recognize me, and you may greet me. I will be very happy.

Day 329

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It was an unusually bright and sunny day for mid-September. The sun shone as though it had decided to hang out during the day while waiting to spend the evening with us.

People came together with smiles, pictures, poems, candles, songs, tears, messages, wooden cutouts of the names of their loved ones, memories and mostly, love. As we settled down in a circle made up of 60-70 people connected by grief, all other noises seemed to recede. The strumming of the guitar soothed our aching nerves. The pauses gave us the space to be. The twilight brought us peace. Holding hands, hugging and sitting close to our friends made us feel safe and well taken care of. The hugs felt like real blessings! So comforting! Complete strangers coming together through this bond of profound loss bringing forth pure humanity.

Nature conspired to make the evening even more special. The sun was generous with its warmth and the sky filled itself with beautiful shapes and colours.

The sharing was honest and powerful. Some times painful.

But what was happening was – healing.

Healing of our minds, hearts and souls.

I am sure he was somewhere in the vicinity, lurking behind a tree, embarrassed at his mother making such a song and dance of the whole thing. Even writing articles in news- papers. Cringe!!!!

Day 327

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Yes. It’s nice when people say nice things about us.

For a little while it makes us feel better about ourselves and by the same token other people’s negative remarks can ruin our day. But is it wise to actually be dependent on other’s praise to feel good? Does other people’s opinion really matter?

As I have become older, I have realized that it matters less and less. I have come to admire people who express their individuality irrespective of what others think. It takes courage to do that. It’s much easier to blend in. We all are unique whether we can show it or not. Each one perfectly imperfect.

I always try to remember that opinions are only opinions. They are not the ultimate truth. On top of that, we change our minds from one instance to another. I can remember times when I have thought of someone as completely nonsensical but on getting to know them better I am able to appreciate them for who they are. Hence it is not worth getting knotted up over what other people think of us.

It was difficult for my son to be one of the very few coloured children in his primary school. When he was 7 he once asked me if I could change his name to Aron. It made me smile. As he grew older he too came to be not just comfortable with, but proud of, his heritage.

“Of all the judgements and beliefs each one of us owns, none is more important than the ones we have about ourselves.”
-Wayne Dyer.