Archive | May, 2013

Wounds that never heal

25 May

 

Standing by my window I stare into the darkness- this world so full of people and yet my eyes can’t find the person I am looking for. The darkness in my soul seems to stretch for an eternity.

Its late, when will you get back home?

I have been waiting…….seasons come and seasons go and yet there is no sign of you. Where are you ? Don’t you know I worry for you…….long to hear that familiar double bell .

Are you waiting for me somewhere??? Or…. have you simply ……gone …..left…….

Are you waiting for me to join you or you don’t remember any of us anymore?

If  Life  is a gift then why did you leave it and go, abandoning me?  I feel like a survivor in a bomb blast – dazed and disoriented.

Do you feel the pain of this sudden disconnect from all of us?

Do you also feel lost and lonely and bereft like me?

I always thought we were two people on a journey together……..but were we on separate journeys?

As I close my eyes, I feel your embrace, your touch, your laughter……..i know they will disappear as soon as I open my eyes. And so I’ll keep them shut a little longer.

Grief never goes away ….. Embers still smolder inside of me only to flare into life the moment something reminds me of you

I feel alone and unsafe without you…………I need you to be here. How will I get on without you?

What about those dreams we saw together?  You brought out the best in me; you were someone I could always count on …..And that was comfort. A comfort I took for granted ; one that I thought would always be there, until one morning when you left ….suddenly without a word…. leaving me shivering in shock and disbelief.

In a moment everything was gone – my husband , my life ……..How do I wrap my mind around this or learn to comprehend this?  Life has a funny way of hitting you in the head when you aren’t even prepared for it….I was now a widow. I didn’t know how to be a widow and I didn’t want to learn but life did not care to check with me before thrusting it upon me.

Its been five years…..the waves of pain still lash against my face,whipping bruising and  leaving me in  deep sadness…..A bottomless endless pit of sadness that keeps me connected to you

As I stand alone in this darkness I realize that I still haven’t figured out a way to get on with this business of living without you……I don’t know if I ever will

 

 

 

My Mom – A Never Ending Song

9 May

 

With Mothers day round the corner I found myself browsing through rows of greeting cards . Picking the right card for my mum seemed a futile exercise coz the cards there created an unrealistic, oversimplified distortion of a mother’s efforts and love. None of them seemed to fit my mom.

Mom- The word fills me with mixed feelings.

Mom and I shared a bitter –sweet relationship all through my growing years.

Keeping pace with my ‘wings’ during adolescence while battling grey hair and the inevitable menopause must have been nerve racking for her. Guess my attitude did give her many a sleepless night as well.

The one thing I saw her do every morning and evening was cook. The emphasis she laid on having a warm home cooked meal (something I wasn’t very happy about then) with family is something I have followed as a tradition with great satisfaction.

She made me walk for miles …..she would lead the way and both my sister and I  had to run to keep pace with her…….for most times I felt like a bushman in the Kalahari; but today I have to admit that I owe my fitness and stamina to those mini marathons.

Mum never painted her nails or styled her hair. I have never seen her worry about aging or calloused feet or rough cuticles. To her being natural was being beautiful.

She was never afraid to reach out to people. We never walked a mile without stopping to talk to people- she would inquire of their health and assure them of her love and prayers. Much to my dad’s exasperation our home was always open to the known and the unknown people she encountered somewhere in her journey through life.

With varicose veins bobbing about she went about her daily chores and taught me my survival mantra- “You ought to do ….what you got to do”

Mom always had the firm belief that God was concerned with every little thing that happened to us. Her unwavering faith in the Almighty is what makes me see Gods handiwork in every detail of my life.

Her anger was legendary which she exercised freely as part of her expression of parental duty. I didn’t realize it then but today I know where my resilience comes from as I navigate  the choppy waters of life..

There were days fraught with tense moments…..but there was a kind of freedom in knowing that though not all things could be repaired , everything could be survived.

On days when I feel that I have been swimming against waves that are bigger, stronger, fiercer than me which move without any regard to what its effect may have on me…………….I think of Mom and the outward grace and serenity with which she moved slowly and surely through life ……always looking outside of herself and making sure her family was fine. Strength I concluded doesn’t have to be belligerent and loud.

Her example has been the most constant influence in my life. She isn’t perfect (nobody is, or expected to be)…. But what stands out most is her love and commitment towards her family and people at large.

That kind of love is Real and Big…………..It leaves me feeling encouraged and empowered.

 

 

 

My True Hero

6 May

The Ancient Greeks said “Tell me who you admire and I’ll tell you who you are”

It set me thinking …I sat there in a meditative state. Who qualifies to be my hero?

Soldiers who dedicate their life for their country?

Superheroes with powers who prove to us that good ultimately triumphs over evil ?

People who make a mark in the world by being sports legends or inventors or even  talented musicians???

I decided to ask my next door neighbor who was, as he put it “chilling with friends’. . We chatted in an airy fashion. They spoke animatedly even mimicked a few actors. These are  intelligent kids. Deep down inside of them …..they are filled with intelligence….but to reach that inner core I guess  one needed dynamite.

“Admire“he said …..”Huh..Nobody”……”you mean hero …like Hollywood or Bollywood”

Let me brisk up a bit here. A few minutes with them and I was convinced that ‘a hero’ to them was very different from what ‘a hero’ meant to me

They were part of a culture where celebrities are substituted for heroes.  Where love and loyalty are placed on the newly famous and nearly forgotten. Where one ‘hero’ is quickly substituted by the next, who then fades away after his fifteen minutes of fame.

To me a ‘hero’ is one who can translate his compassion and kindness into making a difference in critical moments to people or issues.

I thought of all the people I knew…..i had met fleetingly….friends…….family

Those amazing people- The Ordinary rising up to be The Extraordinary.

The silent everyday heroes- who have patiently shared with me their time, resources and love,

who were not just passive bystanders but got involved and engaged in my difficulties

who weren’t superheroes with fancy gadgets but with a viewpoint –A view point  that someone needed to act ….and that they were each that someone

who  have inspired me to live by their values.

Here were My Heroes………. the people I admire

Whose strength of character, integrity and compassion I hope to imbibe.

Who provided me a ’Canopy of Care’ when I needed it the most.

The ones I look up to.

Arthur Ashe  echoes my feelings when he says…..

“True heroism is remarkably sober,very undramatic. It is not the urge to surpass all  at whatever cost, but the urge to serve others at whatever cost“.

As I sit in silence listening to the man on television talk of an unknown stranger who jumped onto the tracks to save a little child,  I thought of all those unnamed, unsung heroes…

Our  world needs more of them- coz they give us a reason to step up and be better than what we were yesterday ;

They reaffirm the belief that no matter where we are , there is always room for the  kindness and goodness we have inside of us  to shine

I wonder –

Is there a hero inside of me ?

If I believed that what I did made a difference,  would I  do things differently ?