In the span of a single month: a death; an engagement; a wedding; three conferences, of which I'm an organizer of two; a company retreat; two grants; a new position; and looking to move out of our existing space.
And the month isn't even over yet.
Friday, November 23, 2018
Thursday, November 8, 2018
The third one
My grandmother passed away a few days ago.
What strikes me is the sense of relief- she struggled terribly in the last few months.She was 92. It was time.
Her funeral was marked with reunions, stories of her childhood, youth and my aunts' childhoods, stories of my father and laughter and tears.
THIS is what funerals should be.
When my father and mother passed away, the sense of disorientation, the sense of breathlessness, the feeing of a massive stone sitting on my head and heart were overpowering at times.
And all through those days and the ones following them I would keep telling myself to be controlled, to smile and to finish whatever had to be done.
Those days are days that I have no desire to recall again... it feels like a wound that has outwardly begun to close, but you're too afraid to touch it in fear that it will start gushing blood again.
My grandmother's death is the end of an era. She was born in the 20's; she got married at 12; had 13 kids, of which 8 survived; she traveled with her husband to whichever part of the country he was transferred, made friends and managed life for herself and her family no matter where she went; she learnt Hindi and English on her own; she was widowed by the time she was 40; and then singlehandedly brought up 8 kids, ranging from 22 (my father) to 8 (my youngest uncle). She lived long enough that 6 out of her 8 great grandkids will have lasting memories of her. She was erudite, could argue points of law and was a life-long learner, constantly trying out knitting, crocheting, stitching, new recipes and discussing topics of morality vs legality in TV shows, as long as she was able.
What did she not experience in her life? I think she suffered through nearly every possible tragedy- the deaths of a husband, parents, siblings, and multiple children, including the last and most recent blows, those of my parents.
My poor Ajji. I hope she finds a modicum of peace, wherever she is now.
What strikes me is the sense of relief- she struggled terribly in the last few months.She was 92. It was time.
Her funeral was marked with reunions, stories of her childhood, youth and my aunts' childhoods, stories of my father and laughter and tears.
THIS is what funerals should be.
When my father and mother passed away, the sense of disorientation, the sense of breathlessness, the feeing of a massive stone sitting on my head and heart were overpowering at times.
And all through those days and the ones following them I would keep telling myself to be controlled, to smile and to finish whatever had to be done.
Those days are days that I have no desire to recall again... it feels like a wound that has outwardly begun to close, but you're too afraid to touch it in fear that it will start gushing blood again.
My grandmother's death is the end of an era. She was born in the 20's; she got married at 12; had 13 kids, of which 8 survived; she traveled with her husband to whichever part of the country he was transferred, made friends and managed life for herself and her family no matter where she went; she learnt Hindi and English on her own; she was widowed by the time she was 40; and then singlehandedly brought up 8 kids, ranging from 22 (my father) to 8 (my youngest uncle). She lived long enough that 6 out of her 8 great grandkids will have lasting memories of her. She was erudite, could argue points of law and was a life-long learner, constantly trying out knitting, crocheting, stitching, new recipes and discussing topics of morality vs legality in TV shows, as long as she was able.
What did she not experience in her life? I think she suffered through nearly every possible tragedy- the deaths of a husband, parents, siblings, and multiple children, including the last and most recent blows, those of my parents.
My poor Ajji. I hope she finds a modicum of peace, wherever she is now.
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