It is a month since my friend had her life shattered to pieces. She is very young, a teacher, with two girls aged 7 and 3. She lost her husband to Covid-19, 13 days after they celebrated his birthday together.
From September 17, every day, her Facebook had updates of memories of all the moments which they spent together.
Most of them were of him as a doting Dad, singing Karaoke with his girls, pouting for photographs, braiding their hair, and playing guest, drinking tea from mini teacups. Watching those souvenirs which they had collected as a family, makes you feel like a voyeur invading their sacred sanctuary.The wringing of your heart , you accept as the penance.
Her accompanying thoughts have everything that she wanted to say to her husband but missed saying when he was with her and her grievances to God who summoned him without a warning.
They reflect her turmoil oscillating between grief, the loss that she is yet to come to terms with, determination to move on for her girls, and berating God for showing no mercy.
“I hate you God “, “ You took him away too soon” ” I haven’t had enough time with him”.
I read those posts and it makes me think about them every day and how unfair life can be. I start typing words that I then delete, not knowing how to console her. I do not have the right words that could assuage her pain.
Philosophies like “this too will pass” and “time will heal” is not going to help one bit.
All I can do is hold her tight and not let her be carried away by the flood of her tears and emotions.
When Paul Hamilton Hayes wrote: “This too shall pass away”, he must have meant the moment.
The moment of misery and moment of joy do pass away with the spinning of the earth’s axis.
But, not the pain that was inflicted or the rapture that was celebrated.
Once the moment is long past, remembering that loss, may not be a part of your daily routine, but you do happen to stumble on those memories. And when you do stumble, you fall hard, on the same scars that you thought were healed.
It hurts with the same magnitude of pain which you felt before. The scars, once again become wounds, which bleeds as heavily as it did earlier.
All the times when I joined her in her reminisces, I could only manage to remind her that she has to be brave for her two little girls.
For her, the moment of losing her loved one has not yet passed. It is playing in a forever loop. She has not yet acquired the time stone to break that loop.
She needs more time for her wounds to heal into scars. For it was her heart, that was shattered into pieces. Life stabbed her when her heart was frozen by the suddenness of her husband’s affliction. The damage cannot be undone. But I hope that she finds magic in the form of love and a purpose to accelerate that healing