Tucked away in the corners of my memories
are moments, glimpses, laughs
of years gone by
of scrabble played
of sipping hot chai on the hospital bed, with You.
I still remember through my young eyes
that hospital; the pain; the unknown agony
Of when you will walk again
Of when you might come home
Of nights spent alone with Amma in darkness
Of wondering what more could Life take from me
What could that young life know
of Death lurking in the shadows?
In one swift fell, it had landed its blow
To take a life, barely struggling to hold on
I guess Death knew him well;
Death doesn't wait; doesn't warn
It swoops in and grabs a life
And disappears silently into its depths
A void remains
Its shadow is long and deep ; a big, gaping wound
Time closes it, but one can feel it linger
One grows up; lives; steadies the hand on the hurt heart.
There's no option given to the living
But, Death shapes you, changes your growth as you live
Life & Death are the best teachers, aren't they?
Life teaches how to be here; how to live life here; in this body & breath
He taught me how to play scrabble on a hospital bed
How one can enjoy a piping-hot dosa with a smile
How to share a basket of pakodas with fellow patients in the general ward
How to re-learn walking, step-by-step, with a stick
How to connect, listen and be a warm, caring presence.
But Death?
His Death has written more words into my life;
more than I care to admit
That this life is finite
That all the material things are just that..material
That all I carry forward are my precious memories, glimpses of goodness
That all I leave behind are nuggets of connections, of friendship, of presence.
Thank you, Appa. We will meet again, I know
Maybe to bond again over chai & pakodas.