gratitude

Day 196

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This letter appeared today….

“To you.

The you that’s had a rough week. The you that seems to be under constant storm clouds, the you that feels invisible, the you that has lots of friends but always feels alone, the you that needs to stop the world spinning for one second just so you can catch up. To you who put your heart in unsafe hands over and over. To you who would still give them one more chance if they asked, to you who has lost faith, to the lost, to those who think they’ve messed it all up. To you who wishes you didn’t wake up, to you who feels they can’t see a finishing line, to the broken hearts, all of them. To you who lost the person who would be the one to tell you all of this if they were still here. To you who holds everyone else together, to you who can’t quite get over it, to you who feels you never will, to you that’s held on too long, to you that blames you always. To you. You are incredible. You.”

….. on my computer screen from someone who has never met me and doesn’t even know I exist. How did they get it so right? There must be something about the human condition that makes us one and the same, that means that no one is really a stranger. At some level, deep inside we all know each other better than we think we do. We are all made up of the same stuff.

This very moving TED talk by Jodie Ann Bickley on stepping back from the kerb caught my attention.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QXxglvEMUQc

It lead me on to her website http://onemillionlovelyletters.com.

Out of her dark despair came this beautiful gift to the world.

May be there is some truth in what my sister wrote in her letter to me : Once the sorrow lifts your essence will shine through again. It may have a different sheen but it will shine again.

Day 194

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In no particular order I remember

  • the ‘bandana’ phase when he loved music by ’50 cent’ and his later embarrassment at the memory.
  • a little black dot just outside the cornea of his left eye.
  • not being allowed to touch the shopping trolley in the supermarket when he was ‘in-charge’ of it.
  • me teaching him to cook spinach and cottage cheese (palak-paneer) the Indian way.
  • him wearing swimming goggles while chopping onions in the kitchen to protect his eyes.
  • me trying to dissuade him from licking his plate after a yummy meal.
  • him checking out his hair every time he happened to see his reflection.
  • the hunt for a perfect double-pedal for his drum kit.
  • him imitating my funny pronunciations and encouraging me to repeat myself.
  • the Kindle he bought for my birthday from his ‘own money’.
  • the Antonio Forcione music he introduced me to. Our favourite piece ironically called ‘Tears of joy’: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FEwHoW1yCB8

As the days, weeks and months go by I feel as if the distance between us is increasing. I fear that I will forget a lot of things about him and about us.

Sometimes I cannot believe that I am still here, eating, drinking, working and socializing while he is gone. The world goes on as though nothing happened.

Life after suicide is bearable if we remember not just how they died but also how they lived.

 

Day 191

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Seated beside me was a young lady 24 weeks pregnant, expecting her second boy. It was a 50th birthday party lovingly organized by a mum for her son. 7 young boys between the ages of 3 and 12 made a right racket playing together in the garden. And there was I, hanging in the middle of all of this, my thoughts going all the way back and all the way forward. It was as if I was suspended in midair, completely still, with the world whizzing around me at a dizzying speed.

Once again, it was a celebration of love.

At the beginning, the contrast between my internal and external landscapes was rather stark. It made me more aware of his physical absence if that was at all possible. In my mind I could see him as a three year old, then 7 and then 12….. it was wonderful to remember how lovely he was at every stage.

I was reminded of this verse by British poet Alfred, Lord Tennyson. It is a requiem for the poet’s beloved friend Arthur Henry Hallam, who died suddenly of a brain haemorrhage. It was written over a period of 17 years. It meditates deeply on his search for hope after great loss.

I hold it true, whate’er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
‘Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.

It is a great honour to be his mum, to have loved him like crazy and for having him love me. He was an absolute star and always will be the brightest star in the sky. 

Day 188

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This person is my ‘significant other’.

Before Day 0 we only spent holidays together as we lived oceans apart, literally on opposite sides of the globe. He was refused leave as a result of which he resigned from his very nice job to be with me when I needed him most. An incredible decision by any measure especially in these times!

I was in an anaesthetized state for months and he watched me day and night. He made sure I ate well, walked at least a little bit each day and slept well. He made me laugh when I thought I was incapable of any joy. He chose beautiful places for us to travel to when I thought I was incapable of appreciating anything. He learnt to read the lines on my face and know when I was burdened with a thought that was killing me but did not want to share. He knew when I needed to speak. He could be silent with me for hours.

One afternoon standing on a beach with waves from the Bay of Bengal dancing at my feet I just wanted to walk into the sea. The temptation was so strong but he was right beside me which meant I would not get too far. In countless different ways he kept me alive.

You are truly godsent.

I love you even when I am grumpy 🙂

Happy birthday!