The
night Shekhar passed away all fear vanished, laughter disappeared…in essence,
life died. The numb silence that followed was timeless. At any other time of my
life and for any other reason, I would have welcomed the reprieve from the
business of living. The opportunity to check out and drift, like a wraith. I
would curl up in a ball and sleep…when I was awake my body rocked itself. I was
not hungry, I felt no pain, I was not aware…It was a strange phase but could
only last so long…
Two
days before his funeral, I started writing my journal again. On my last
entry…the day he died, I had written a phrase on a post it and stuck it on the
page to explore the next day…I remember reading it somewhere and being
impressed by the sheer elegance and poetry of those two words together. I now
like to think that it might have been a prescient message to myself in the wake
of what was about to happen…the green post it with the words – Personal Velocity. Personal as in originating from, relating to my self and Velocity… the vector, path, trajectory,
direction defined by change in distance over time…In that enlightened moment, I
believed I had been given the mantra to make the journey through my grief.
Soon
enough the numbness started to ebb and as it receded fear returned with what
if…? What if I die? What if I live? What if I make the wrong decision or
choice? What if something happens to the boys? What if I can’t do this alone?
What if I can’t do it at all?…What if, what if…and life kept coming at me,
testing and pushing, challenging and dragging…and I reacted with resilience and
personal velocity only to realize that you can’t sprint a marathon. I have
tried, believe me! But time will not be pushed…it will follow its own
frustrating pace…too much when you want little and too little when you want
more…one way or another, you have to go through it. But thankfully there is a
flipside…
Over
two thousand years ago, Seneca wrote a treatise On The Shortness of Life, where he spoke of living a
preoccupied life and wasting time. Essentially, he said life is long and there
is enough time to spend on what is truly important…Seneca recommended studying
philosophy as the only worthwhile endeavour. I have learnt different…I have
seen that Shekhar lived a long life in his short while here because he knew his
priorities. No time was wasted. I have also seen that when you let every
preoccupation fall away as it did for me the night Shekhar died, what is truly
important calls your attention and focus. That night I realised, for me, it was
our children. They were all that mattered…so I applied my personal velocity and
invested myself heart and soul. But velocity is distance travelled over time
and we have come a long way. Much has happened. The boys have become young men
with independent spirits. They don’t need me as much…and I have to learn to
accept it. So, what is truly important now?
A
semblance of an answer is forming…slowly. A few insights have emerged…instead
of letting life come at me, I need to throw myself at life…not with a reactive
vehemence as I have done before but in a studied state of grace and presence.
To learn to say Fuck Yes! Or Hell No! And stop living in the shadows of myriad
shades of grey…what is truly important now is to make the journey to myself.
That is the only way, as Spock would say, to live long and prosper…and Seneca
would qualify, live immediately.
***
The greatest obstacle to living is expectancy, which
hangs upon tomorrow and loses today. You are arranging what lies in Fortune’s
control, and abandoning what lies in yours. What are you looking at? To what
goal are you straining? The whole future lies in uncertainty: live immediately.
