Posts Tagged ‘grief’

Pouring out…ghee and grief

August 16, 2019

The young daughter pours the oblation of ghee into the sacred fire of the “havan”…and her tears pour down her tender young face.

My own eyes fill as I see the sorrow of the toughest part of growing up. If Agni and Swaha do not take her love up to her father, surely those twin streams of salt and grief will do so.

IMG_6042 Outpouring of ghee and grief, Blr, 160819

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Requiem for a marriage

June 3, 2013

020676 dm wedding photo Photo0048.jpg

Today (2nd June) I functioned on two levels..on one, being myself, being with everyone, laughing and joking…on another…..hell. 37 years. Starting with good ones….obviously, getting worse all the time. Died on January 24th, 2013.

What a failure I am. Apparently, I should not think this…but I do. I know that grief heals in time…but not yet, not yet. I cannot forgive myself. It’s much easier to forgive others, than to forgive oneself.

Took me the whole day to decide to post this. My heart is still on fire.

It’s been a few days…

July 24, 2012

…since I last posted, and goodness knows how I coped…but I feel happy to report that I *have* coped.

I returned to an empty house, with the contents of all the cupboards strewn about as the painters were painting the inside of all of them….could not find a single thing, there was no telephone, no internet…it was total chaos, accurately reflecting the chaos in my mind as I began the first day of the rest of my life….by myself.

Over the past week, I have turned out even more cupboards, and got most of the flat painting and allied jobs done, and though the flat is still looking as if a whirlwind has passed through it, it now is a smaller whirlwind. (Yesterday I could not even sleep on my bed as my clothes were scattered all over it….I slept on the couch.)

But with it all, I’ve managed to attend the regular 3rd Sunday outing to Bannerghatta, to take an NTP trip to Yercaud, and catch up with friends, too…and keep up with photography and posting, too. Yes, in the process, LJ and WordPress fell through…but my thoughts have been chaotic, and really not worth expressing at all..so negative have they been, most of the time.

But I have people like as examples, so how can I remain down? The jet lag is slowly going away in spite of being extended due to the presence of workmen in the home all day…and my mind, too, is getting calmer. I’m off to Chennai today (back late tomorrow night) to see the people who probably are the only “family” I have left.

But I’ll leave you with the entertaining patter of this magician, who performed just before the show of Disney’s “Aladdin” (the musical) that I went to watch before leaving St.Louis.

Funny….an Indian going all the way to America to watch the *American* rope trick!

The Deepest Sorrows…

September 12, 2011

The deepest sorrows are those that one cannot share with any other person….they are the private wounds, that bleed into one’s heart and soul, opening up now and then, in spite of our best care….. for glimpses into one’s own personal hell.

A woman loses her husband. Six months, or two years later, the world …even her own children, perhaps…have moved on. But she is pierced by the intensity of the grief, still. She cannot tell everyone, “I feel this sorrow as intensely as the day it happened, my wounds have not healed.” So…she suffers in the silence of loneliness and alienation.

A friend of mine once lost a boyfriend…before their relationship was “official”. She suffered all the grief and agony of a wife…without ever being able to express it openly.

Then there are the wounds that our own family may inflict on us. When someone is close to your heart, you are very vulnerable to the shaft that drives straight home, and cannot get dislodged easily. You have no armour against the people who are dearest to you. Sometimes, I see children who do not want their parents too near them; I see parents who have “disowned” their children for choosing life partners on their own… a chasm that cannot be bridged, appears, and sears the heart. One cannot complain about one’s own family, so the tears flow into one’s heart instead of on to one’s cheeks.

A child is abused by its parents, or relatives…and often cannot express what s/he has undergone. The scars never really heal…not for a lifetime.

Why such a morbid post? I don’t know…this thought just occurred to me..at least I can share the thought.

Grief that cannot be expressed is the deepest grief of all. and often does not heal through one’s lifetime.

Awful….

November 20, 2008

Awful…I visited Chennai for the first time after my brother died, exactly six months ago. My sister-in-law was away, and I entered the empty flat…

I just do not know what happened. The tears suddenly came …in a hurricane of something that I could not even identify as emotion or grief…never, ever, have I had this unthinking or visceral a reaction in my life so far (except,I think, when I heard that my daughter had fallen on her face from a height of about 12 feet, or when I heard that she had a fast-growing lump behind her knee that the surgeon did not like the look of). It took me several minutes of crying before I could even analyse that it was grief, bereavement, and missing that bratty brother of mine with his ready wit and generous heart, and that I should control myself.

My heart is somewhere in my toes right now. Today I feel I am an island.

Don’t worry, this won’t last long! I will bounce back soon. But, idahoswede, I *know* how you felt that day….

Protected: Don’t want to be strong…

July 24, 2008

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A death

November 19, 2007

We got the news late yesterday evening, and went across early this morning.

The man was 70 plus. He had been keeping good health; he went to play golf and felt ill….and didn’t even make it to the hospital from the golf course.

The no-longer-the-man was stretched out on a refrigerated casket. Rites were performed which made no sense to me, because I firmly believe that what was dear to the family left on Saturday evening. Now it’s only the empty shell that is being subjected to rites.

But the family was inconsolable. The wife yelled, “ask them not to take him away”. I felt,oh my goodness,lady, don’t cry now….the “husband” in that body went away two days ago. What’s left HAS to be taken away and destroyed, before it decomposes. The flesh without the spirit is just…dross.

Do the prescribed rites give comfort to the family? If they do, that’s all right. But today I saw the family being agonized afresh by rituals which did NOT comfort them at all. There was NO dignity to some of those rituals.

There were crowds of people. How many of them were there from genuine sorrow? How many to watch? And to mark their attendance? I heard two people quietly discussing how the lady would not like to live with either son because “she doesn’t get along with the daughter-in-laws”. Felt like telling them to stop…but they had a right to say what they felt like, so I kept quiet.

I was most uncomfortable, because to me, the fact of the man’s dying without illness, without suffering, was a good thing. I would have been lynched if I had expressed that thought, though. So I kept quiet.

Life is SO chaotic…death even more so.

How am I going to take it if such a loss happens to me? Will I be philosophical?

Don’t know.