Some people in life are so precious, they are the air that we breathe. They are the light in our lives and the twinkle in our eyes. People that we assume we cannot simply live without
…. And then as fate would have it. We loose them. We are forced to be separated with them, the laughter, the jokes, the talks, the travels, the love ends. It all disappears in a flash stronger than of a lightning bolt. It feels like a dagger to the heart. Losing a loved one in the time of covid 19 is immensely painful. Akin to a sinister unknown unheard of adversity attacking when least expected… And you are not alone… The whole world over people lost their loved ones and are still loosing them… Yet it seems that you are suffering alone… There are no social groups to attend to empathize with all the other people in your community going through the same agony as you, social distancing put a stop on that. I don’t know of anyone else around than me who has lost the most precious part of her life to the pandemic. If there are, they are unknown to me, if there are online groups I haven’t found any.
And yet the show must go on. It is not that you must move on, but the show continues, life pushes you forward forcibly, you are dragged towards forgetting the lost one which pulls you into a downward spiral of succumbing to sorrow. The show doesn’t stop for anyone, it goes on like time.
For the past two months I’ve been trying to muster the courage to write something about the visitation is Death during the pandemic, but I wasn’t able to. My heart wouldn’t accept it. My hand would go nowhere near to writing.
And on mother’s day I find myself utterly heart broken…. If I still had you I would give you the whole world dearest mother. I opened Facebook to see the old memories I had shared on the previous mother’s day and I stumble upon a black and white photo of a beautiful woman unknown to me. It was an old picture of my best friend’s maternal grandmother in her youth. Such a lovely lady, with beautiful features. As I stared at it I noticed how much my best friend resembles her grandmother. A thought occurred to my mind. What if I bore a child, the splitting image of my beloved Mother? Would not that be the best compensation for death that Providence could gift me with? It would bring unbelievable joy, just as intense as the unbearable loss of death.
Ah the cycle of birth and death, how we remain entrapped in it. One replaces another in a similar but yet different way.
I stumble upon a refreshened version of the secret garden, I loved the story and I was pleasantly surprised to find that our Eternal Mr Darcy Colin Firth was playing the lead role. I had to watch it. The film was beautiful, despite narrating a children’s life events it appears to be a lesson purely for adults.
Both children loose parents when they are just so naive and small. I felt lucky to have been bloomed to a mature woman by my mother always ready to give me her all. She had been there for me all of these 31 years. How fortunate I was to have been constantly in her warm support and encouragement to be who and what I am today. The children in the secret garden were not so fortunate. It broke my heart to see both kids locked up in separate portions of a dingy gloomy manor and unable to meet.
The uncle shows indifference to his niece. He is adamant on mourning. He is adamant on keeping his son safe by locking him away in the house. As if a person becomes so scared of death that he is afraid even to live, which is exactly what the girl realizes and takes her cousin away to taste even the slightest scent of life .
Everyone loses a dearly beloved. The uncle the girl and the boy. They all suffer. They’re all broken and trapped in a shell of uncertainty. That is what death brings to the one who loses his love to it. The uncertainty drives anyone to strange behavior. The boy believes he is a hunchback and will die soon. The uncle retreats and turns to alcohol.
The girl somehow manages to resort to playing alone and her adventurous past in the exotic India leads her to discover the beauty of the grass and trees and the benevolent foliage that nature provides us with right outside our homes.
The story explicitly displays that inspite of loss, suffering and agony due to death there is still the gift of life in the children that remain. The beautiful mother of the bed ridden boy heavily resembles his cousin. The beautiful late lady of the manor remains alive in her niece. She remains alive in her son. And it is this realization of the existence of new priceless relations that draws the uncle back towards life. There is a family still alive to be loved unconditionally. There are the two wonderful children neglected by utter grief who need to be loved and nurtured exactly how the lady of the manor was valued. There is the possibility of creating a new world based on the love of the departed that can be as beautiful as the past. There is the secret of valuing life and living, and loved ones who are still around that makes ones life worthwhile again.