13th August – 21st August 2015
The nights were sleepless. In the day I didn’t feel like he was gone. I could see him everywhere. It was just like he was out on one of those trips and will walk in laughing any time (A month later, I still don’t feel him gone). But when I closed my eyes, I saw him in the cold storage. So staying awake was better.
We were in the mourning period – 13 days filled with ceremonies that are supposed to deliver peace to the departed soul and guide them on the way to heaven. I think, it’s more to give peace to the living. Get us busy so that we think about the ritual than the person who is gone!
I was never a believer of rituals, nor am I now. So for me, people were the strength to carry me through. No one left me alone for a minute – they still don’t. The most valuable thing he left me was friends. They poured in from all corners, and they were as distraught at his going as I was.
Yet when we sat together, we remembered the good times, the pranks he would play, the sheer audacity of some of the things he did, and we laughed our hearts out. Yes, we laughed. It was so much better than crying. Because really, we don’t cry for the person who’s gone. We cry for ourselves and the hole they’ve left in our lives. We cry because we don’t know what’s going to happen to us. So I chose to laugh when I could, and talk about the good times.
But tears have a way of finding their way out. What triggers it, I don’t yet know.