I love hymns. An ode to loved ones. A will detailing the impact on our lives. Possible speech transcription. A way to commemorate what we say we have lost. I sincerely hope that this is premature. Part of me is still in denial. Refusing to accept the harshness of reality. A desperate but strangely stoic message comes from her normally optimistic, sun-soaked 14-year-old cousin. How does he know what organ failure is? What does he mean by critical? Why is she so measured by her salvation? How does someone so young handle grief?
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But I still have a little bit of hope left. No matter how misleading the left side of my brain may seem, please accept it wholeheartedly. It's the method. Embarrassingly, I'm not quite sure what happened next. Or rather, I know, my memory is patchy. As a result, I don't have the details or the words to justify her eventful life, and I'm lost every day even though I promised to do more eventually. Somehow the boundless curiosity I regularly show strangers doesn't extend to him.
Over the last few years, I've been trying to listen to her and benefit from her wisdom, so I've been a little tough on myself. But like many people, I regret not doing more.I didn't even bother to talk to her or even see her.
I moved to England when I was very young, but due to the harsh consequences of long distance, I never had the opportunity to develop a deep relationship with my maternal family.However, the kindness of her demeanor, the warmth of her words and touch. She has always evoked feelings of intimacy and refuge.For that alone, I owe her a great deal of gratitude. As a child, I didn't quite realize how special he was. It chased me around the room before exploding the canister. But I survived to tell the story.
Recent memories are even more special. Two stand out and capture how extraordinary he was with his thoughtfulness and love. First was his call to share wisdom from the Bible and verses to comfort his recently heartbroken grandson and reassure him that the weather is over. Intention is more important than action. And such life events are, by and large, nothing more than ripples in a large body of water. One lesson in particular struck a chord. A rough translation of a quote from Iqbal is, "What is your will when God dictates your destiny?" I never told him how much grace his words brought.
Second, in a conversation earlier this year, during the conversation, she told me how she and her family were blessed by a great sage whom everyone affectionately called Babaji. I shared it. It's a conversation I want to cherish.