Grief Awaits
The Covid-19 pandemic cut loose any fixed idea I had ever had about death, illness, luck, grief, and life itself.
When I left office one ordinary day (before any disaster, it was simply another day, wasn’t it?), sometime early last year, I didn’t think the pandemic will last so long. Or didn’t think of the enormity of what was to come. The second wave in India is as real as it could get, and I still can’t come to terms with what is happening. And I am not alone in this feeling. Everyone I talk to these days says they feel like they are experiencing a nightmare and are just waiting to wake up.
Death is unknown of the unknown. In the depths of despair, it is easy to think that death might be welcoming. But when we are laughing and hopeful about our lives and the future, we would never want to think of death. Most of us don’t know when it is our time, so we have learned not to give it too much thought. (Though I sometimes wonder, will we know when it is our time? A day before her death, my grandmother, whose arthritis hindered her from sitting on a bike, insisted she will adjust so she can visit her daughter. Did she know that was her last day?) But it is hard not to worry when it comes to the people we love. Because when death touches those around you, it wrecks you. It leaves behind destruction that will leave you devasted no matter how prepared you try to be. And when it is over, some parts of you will never forget it.
When my grandmother died, it didn’t hit me then. I was shaken, yes. But the grief was staggered. When people came to our house to offer their condolences, I received them mutely. I didn’t know the right thing to say, nor did I know how to react. I knew she was gone, but it really hadn’t sunk in. It didn’t feel like she had left us. Not then. Not for a long time.
As I said, the grief was staggered. I don’t remember the time right after her death. I can’t recollect how I felt at the moment.
Many months later, as I was walking home from work, I absent-mindedly dialed my grandmother’s number and waited for her to pick up the call. It was only after the fifth ring did I realize what I was doing. The feeling that came after, I remember acutely. I stood in the middle of a busy street, tightly clutching my phone in my hand and unable to sense anything beyond the dull ache in my chest. My eyes teared up without my volition. It was a feeling that I never wanted to experience again.
“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.”
― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed
When I received news that one of my friends from school ( he and I had drifted apart, but we were close a long time ago) had died in a motorcycle accident, I was shocked. But no particular emotion came to the fore-front. It was later in the night when I was lying in bed, and my brain conjured up memories of the past, the tears came. I grieved for a boy who was once my dear friend. I cried for the future and dreams that were snatched away without warning. As I write this, I can feel the traces of the grief that had dulled over the years but never completely gone.
“They say time heals all wounds, but that presumes the source of the grief is finite.”
― Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Prince
And now, when I hear the news of all the lives that are lost to the virus, I worry. We are numb now, but I worry about the impending grief that will come sweeping by and inevitably knock us down. Will we have the strength to get back up? I can only hope.
