still. grieving.

i remembered again today morning. and my face contorted involuntarily and i cried a short, painful, anguished, helpless, soundless, silent cry. just for a second. and then i refocused and went to work. work -the cure-all. but all day i felt a chip on my shoulder and a wound in the most delicate part of my heart. because i remembered, and regardless of what i did, i could not forget.

i remembered those last moments. i saw that she was holding on -that she was fighting back. and i tried to think what she was fighting for? for me? for us? for her still-unrealized-hopes? for her who has a lifetime ahead of her and is need of the kind of guidance that only she could give and nobody else would be able to? for that silver bracelet with the bird’s motif in black -sewad-kari-? for the days that she sat in the yard under the shades of the tree laughing with him and her and all others amid the pleasant aroma of fresh cut grass and intoxicating roses? for seeing me happy -at my happiest? for smiling more? travelling more? for life -dear, delicious life that one can only be aware of in one’s prime? for all these, and more. she fought hard, before she let go.

someone has written a book about grieving. i have yet to read joan didion’s the year of magical thinking, but from the interview of the author with bbc world service english edition early this morning, the book seemed most interesting. it’s about grieving -or did i mention that already? i think it’s called something like not dead yet -and in the interview the author talked about the importance of taking time out to grieve fully and ritualistically. because otherwise the reality of it all will not be driven home. i am convinced that is the case here.

in the words of the decembrists: how many years will it take till i swallow all my tears?


~ by safrang on September 1, 2008.

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