death

Day 636

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 “Wake Me Up”
Wake me up when it’s over,
Wake me up when it’s done,
When he’s gone away and taken everything,
Wake me up.

Wake me up when the skies are clearing,
When the water is still,
’cause I will not watch the ships sail away so,
Please say you will.

If it were any other day,
This wouldn’t get the best of me.

But today I’m not so strong,
So lay me down with a sad song,
And when it stops then you know I’ve been,
Gone too long.

But don’t shake me awake,
Don’t bend me or I will break,
Come find me somewhere between my dreams,
With the sun on my face.

I will still feel it later on,
But for now I’d rather be asleep.

– By Norah Jones.

 

 

 

Day 633

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chakras

Why is it that when I feel sad my throat gets choked and the same thing happens when I feel deeply grateful for something? As I sat with my eyes closed this morning, it came to me that the ‘Throat Chakra’ houses both of them – grief and gratitude. Chakras are part of our subtle (or energy) body. They literally mean – ‘wheels of light’. They are centres of transformation.  Chakras are often called spinning energy vortexes or simply power centres.

The gift of the Throat Chakra is accepting our originality, expressing our authentic voice and speaking our truth. The energy of this chakra allows us to seek knowledge that is true, beyond limitations of time and space and beyond cultural and family conditioning. The “way of the Throat Chakra” is the way of inspired creativity, seeking and sharing of the truth. It is the way of standing up for what we believe, saying no when we need to, and being open and honest in what we say.

I thought about yesterday and all the things that had brought me down so badly. I looked at each one of them closely again. The beautiful memories I have of Saagar – I am so grateful for them. I wish I had more. Shopping with Si – I am so lucky to have him share my life with me and everyday I am grateful for that. A walk in the countryside with some of my family from India – what is sad about that? It is something I dream of. So glad for it to actually happen. The gentle breeze, the warmth of the sun, the happy sounds of kids playing – all of those lovely things that made me sad, I am grateful for. The lovely meal in a nice restaurant with friends and family; the live music – all blessings! Of course I miss Saagar all the time, I always will, yet my heart and throat are full of ‘THANKS’.

Day 632

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(Naughty…)

It started off with one thing and as the day went on it got stronger and stronger. By the end of the day it got unbearable and the dam broke.

When Saagar and I went shopping for groceries together, he wouldn’t let me touch the trolley. He wanted to be fully in charge of it. Sometimes, just to annoy him I would touch the edge of the trolley with the tip of my little finger and he would most predictably remind me to keep my hands off. It was our little game.

This morning Si and I went shopping together. I wheeled the trolley in and Si casually placed his hand on the edge of it. The memory hit me hard in the face. For a few seconds I completely lost my bearings. I wasn’t sure what to say or feel or do. I just walked around absently following Si and the shopping list.

The rest of the day the feeling of not knowing what to say or do stayed with me. As for feelings – I felt a deep, deep loss and totally lost. I also felt helpless and stuck. I couldn’t really have a proper conversation with anyone. I just listened and nodded and smiled. Everyone seemed to be at a completely different place from me. I felt like I had nothing in common with them. Luckily it was a day of walking in the countryside with close family so there were no particular demands on me. I could just be myself and observe my ‘stuff’.

Thereafter the breeze, the sun shining from behind the clouds, the kids running around and playing, the French signage at the restaurant…. everything painfully reminded me of him.

Finally when the live band of 3 young men started to play and the drums came on nice and loud, the dam broke.

 

Day 631

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“Kamikaze” is a word that has become synonymous with all that is crazy, fanatical and self-destructive. It literally means ‘divine wind’. Kamikaze aircraft were essentially pilot-guided explosive missiles, purpose-built or converted from conventional aircraft. In the second world war young Japanese pilots would attempt to crash their aircraft into enemy ships in what was called a ‘body attack’.

“Dear mother, my one regret is I could not do more for you before I die. But to die as a fighter for the emperor is an honour. Please do not feel sad.” A lot of letters had been written in this vein. They appear to confirm the view that a whole generation of Japanese men had been brainwashed into self-abnegation and blind obedience to the Emperor.

Young school girls bid farewell to the departing kamikaze pilots with cherry blossom branches:

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‘Honour’ is an abstract concept entailing a perceived quality of worthiness and respectability that affects both the social standing and the self-evaluation of an individual or an organisation such as a family, school or nation. Young minds can be moulded into believing that dying is a good idea. It has been happening for many years and continues to carry on through many generations in various parts of the world for one reason or another.

 

Day 630

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She had met Saagar just once. He had come to my hospital to see a colleague in August 2014 and we sat in the tea-room, chatting. She was there too. I had to go but she stayed and spoke with him for a while. She found him very engaging and charming. In fact, she really liked him. She had 3 sons in their late teens/early twenties and we would often talk about our sons. Although we never saw each other socially, we were much more than work colleagues.

She attended Saagar’s memorial service. She was heartbroken for me when he died. She was the first one to have a hot chocolate with me after that as she knew what it meant for me. When I restarted work, Thursdays were most difficult. It was a cursed thursday that I came to work and left him alone to deal with his demons. I came to this very hospital. I saw her on Thursdays. With her kind eyes, generous smile and friendly chat, she slowly made me forget what day of the week it was. I looked forward to seeing her again. We greeted each other with a warm hug every time and made time for a heart to heart. I treasured the time spent with her. On many occasions we tried to meet up socially but it somehow didn’t work. But she read this blog everyday. She said it had become her ‘thought for the day’. She was one of those people who emerged out of nowhere and stood by me like a sacred pillar, being my source of strength and giving me all the credit for it.

Last week she was in her favourite country on holiday. She fell very ill and despite good medical care, passed away within 3 days.

Where do all the good people go? How do I get to grips with this new reality? What now? All over again!

Does she get to see Saagar now? Do they still have a special connection? Are they able to comfort each other? How does this whole thing work?

Love you and miss you M. Peace be upon you. xxx