Up in the sky

But strew his ashes to the wind
Whose sword or voice has served mankind,—
And is he dead, whose glorious mind      
Lifts thine on high?—
To live in hearts we leave behind     

   Is not to die. 
(Hallowed ground. Thomas Campbell)


I visited a relative's house after few days of funeral at their place. Seemed like the house has turned normal, after few days of mourning. The one who has left them all seemed to be old but a healthy man. The death was a shock, the age wasn’t. you get that ? coffee was served. Conversations took a boring phase and so that is the time we had to leave. When I lift up my head after wearing my slip-ons, my eyes met the name board of this person who had left for once. I mean he is no way closer to me, just an acquaintance. But something hit me and I sit to write this.

1

We are born, we live and we leave. This is the only most sure of things that we know. The time we live and how we live is all up to uncertain plans and that's the spice. We all have thought at least once by now- what happens to people after they die? We should have thought they will come around as a ghost or probably be playing around in heaven or be reborn somewhere or the most practical thing we will come up with is that they are dead and there is no aftermath. Okay! Leave what happens to them. What happens to us after a person leaves? We get some sweet sadness when ever we think of them. Right? The ratio and flavor of sweet and sad is depending on how close the person is to you and the roll they played in your life. For example, I remember seeing a dead person on the road who freshly met with an accident. I still have this picture in my head. When I think of it I feel a little tinge of sadness, no sweetness. When I think of my dead grandma, I have more of fresh sweetness and little sadness.

I also remember a sweet lady, mother of my good friend. She is one of such headstrong-lovable-mom-determined-focused woman I met. All she wanted was a great life to her daughters. I know those daughters personally and the impact reflects. She owned me a little too. When I went to her funeral, I wasn’t emotionally broken or sad but I started shivering in denying to accept she is gone. I felt like shaking her up and saying “okay now get up and be back to normal”. I was no where emotionally connected to her nor her loss puts a dent in my life but I simply could not accept. If I think of her, there is little sweetness, even little sadness but a lot of void that I could feel.

My dad used to share about a Brahmin lady who cooks so well and was so kind to him in his childhood days. She lived in his neighbourhood. He moved to different place, no contact and I am sure she is too old to be alive anymore. But my dad talks about her at least once in six months, quoting some incident or memory he shares with her.

Now I am sitting in a cafe and when I look around this people busily scuffle, gulp, chat or type, they all have some set of people in their mind for sure, who aren't alive now. May be as close as their mother or as random as a poor old man begging on the street long back. They will surely remember them with some mixture of sweetness and sadness. Whatever happens to a person after she or he is dead and gone, something surely affects their surroundings for sure. The impact they leave. Even the most insignificant person on earth will remain in someones memory. Isn't this beautiful?

The tree they watered once is still alive, the recipe in that piece of paper is still a dread-saver, the story they said still makes sense. Musing about this was a rich yet peaceful feeling. I thought it would be good if I registered it in words.

By the way, have you ever sat gaping at the sky, thinking of the person who left you?