"It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things”.
We've all experienced the passing of an acquaintance, friend, or loved one at some point during our lives. I've lost three of my grandparents and acquaintances at different points in life.
This loss is somehow different though- my heart is broken, shattered. These tears are different- they are a reflection not only of my loss, but also my feeling that an injustice has occurred. A pure, genuine soul has been taken away from this world before his time. We grew up together; he called me his little sister and he was a brother to me. The only thing that reduces the pain I am experiencing is going to his home every night, visiting his family, and reminiscing. I am so thankful that I can work from home right now as being with others who loved and cared for him also is an immense solace. It is mind boggling that life can take such a drastic turn within days.
Two weeks ago, I was partaking in a close friend's wedding activities and coordinating dance practices for her sangeet. From seven nights of wedding parties to seven nights of mourning, and speaking at my friend's memorial service before his cremation.
Thursday night, the night of the viewing of the body for the family, was the toughest. The two hours of sitting in the viewing room with his family, and looking at him in this new form of his were some of the most difficult in my life. Just moments after entering the small viewing room and seeing his lifeless corpse, I left feeling nauseous. His mom approached me and said "Please stay in the room with us. You have to be strong. He is in a better place now." In these moments, I realized that Aunty has an incredible amount of strength, and I definitely have much to learn. I went in, and stopped fighting the tears, let it all out.
His sisters and I held on to each other, prayed for his soul, and touched his heart and then his hands- from his kara, injured knuckles, and three nail-less fingers, we knew that this was him. Else he looked 20 years older than he was (he passed at 37), and his body was swollen. His hands were so cold and felt like clay. This was my first time in such close contact with a dead body, and I hope my last for a long time.
One thing both my friend and I had in common was our penchant for writing. I've never been a blogger, but figure this may help alleviate my pain and serve as a segway to a new path. So here's to the start of something.
