Unfathomable, unbelivable it appears that days, months just fleet by, the world goes on with its macro/micro ways , why, you yourself carry on with life, with your daily personal and professional responsibilities. Nothing changes in a way, and yet nothing is the same. Ever again.
One grieves about this crushing routine which has neevr stopped for and will never wait for anyone, anything.In a way, grief includes this paradox of the transience of all that appeared permanent, and the perpetuality of all that is ephemeral. Very complex is this emotion, this feel, this idea called grief.
At times, it is very physical. It makes you feel cold, cold like the last touch of the mortal remains. Grief is at times the emptiness that you can see, the bed she would never again occupy, her favourite cup you would not dare touch given the fragility of your own emotions, the photo she has framed herself into for an eternity. Her abscence is a presence yet. At times, you can hear grief, in some line of a song that is borne on the air. You sense it in some distant fragrance, too, why, it is everywhere, always, already present, even in a distant faint echo of some child calling out to her mother.
Basically though, grief is this bottomless pit that buries you the moment you yet again realise the abscence that is present forever. Grief then becomes the memory which you are constantly prying open. This emotion is quite a vortex, of happy togthernesses, of wild regrets, of a constant cross-examination that re-plays every mo(ve)ment till her last instant. You know very well that she had grown very fragile, you understand that she would have suffered a lot in Covid times, you accept that she lived a full, contented life and that her calm exit had a dignity that suited her way of life. And, yet, the grief never goes away, chases you like your own shadow.
Intellectually, you recognise all the stages of grief that every bereavement brings along for everyone. Yet its intensity cuts like a splintered shard. Even when grief cannot ever be compared, you rationalise that a parent is irreplacable. That is no consolation though. Forever envelops this whirlpool of grief that sucks beneath the calm exterior. Anyways, you do not ever want to wallow in a cheap senti-n-mental show-off. Every tear, each sob you hide from the prying, curious stares trying to guage your grief. All the well meaning, kind advices and commiserations cannot calm you down. And then you realise, to grieve or not to grieve, that is not the question. Grief happens!
Let me conclude with my take off on Maya Angelou's tribute to Nelson Mandela.
Her life is done, she has gone.
I shalt never forget you or Papa, your partner
I shalt never dishonour either
I shalt remember forever
I shalt yet be happy that
you two lived for us,
taught us all that is good in us
and deeply loved us.
pratima@grief-n-loss
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