The loss of a loved one does not get better with time, the wound it leave behind does not heal, we just learn to live with the pain. We try hard to forget the wound but every time the wound gets a little hit by the memory we feel a sharp pain, which we try to ignore by going on with life.
The loss of my uncle recently was one such wound that, I know would haunt me for life. Though I was not close to him, loosing him all of a sudden came as a shock. He the first one to go too soon in our close family circle. He was not old enough to die, his death came as a shock to the whole family.
The moment I head his death news my brain froze, I got on my bike to see my aunt is the very next thing I did. I was riding the bike, my brain is not working. Finally when I reached his house I realised I have taken the longest route possible to get there and not sure why I did it ! I am well aware of the shortest route but my brain did not function enough to get the shortest route. I got there just in time when his body arrived from he hospital and he was laid down in the bench. All I could feel was him sleeping and nothing more. I well know he is gone but my mind is not in the state to accept it.
I could see my aunt crying, the aunt who used to be fun and very caring. One of my favourite aunt and the one we used to tease a lot. Seeing her cry caused a deep pain in the heart. Its something that cannot be explained. I was feeling sorry for her more than my uncle gone at that moment.
I could see my cousin who was struggling with all his strength to stay strong for his mom who was devastated. More than the sorrow of loosing his dad, he had a anger on his dad for putting off from seeing a doctor earlier. He was more angry than being sad. He was collecting all his strength and controlling his tears, waiting for his brother to come. I was there witnessing him in his great loss in life. I had no words to console him or even to talk to him. All I was able to do was to stand there beside him and just watch.
As all the relations and friends arrive they began talking of the loss and about the dead. That in no way ease the pain but help to vent out the emotions helping us to retain the good memories with him. All I could was to feel sorry for my aunt, who had her whole life around her family. Now her biggest pillar of strength gone and she was left alone to face the world. I understand she has her sons to her support yet losing her husband was no match.
As my uncle was cremated the next day, all I could think was how short the human life is. A man with whom I was having a talk a week earlier is now gone and we were there doing his final rites. As he was burning to ashes all I had in mind was life is short and it is too short to live with regrets.
A thought of getting my parents a medical check up asap passed to my mind while my brother uttered those words loud to me.
I was sorry for my aunt, for her loss. I met her a month later, she is learning to live with her loss. In India they have a bad custom of dress code for a widow as no bindi , no flowers , no colours clothings. My aunt when i met her was dress as herself, in a beautiful pink saree, with her bindi and flowers decorating her hair. I was so happy to see her that way. I have seen her like that always and she has chosen to be the same. By choosing so she is breaking odd customs and now I love her even more for she choosing her to be herself.