Sumit's Inkwell

The slippers are still by the bed.

The walker is still at the foot of it, waiting for a hand that won’t touch it again.

Everything is exactly as she left it the night before.

A few weeks ago, my grandmother, my last living grandparent, passed away in her sleep, peacefully. It was both expected and unexpected.

Expected, because she was pushing 100.

Unexpected, because you never heard her complain, and if you spoke to her, she was still making plans for the next decade.

I feel sad. I feel depressed. I feel things I don’t even have names for all blending into one strange emotional emulsification in my head.

It’s been a long time since someone in my direct family passed away, the last being 2006, when my maternal grandparents died just weeks apart. In the past 10 months, I’ve been to four funerals, and I think it’s all catching up to me now. Not in a bad way.

As a kid, I feared death, cemeteries, and anything to do with dying. As the years march on and my hair turns gray, I’ve learned that death is just another thing in this world. Like air. Like grass. Like the blue sky.

We’re born, we’re celebrated.

We rent venues. We gather everyone who loves us. Birthdays, graduations, weddings, anniversaries, always circling someone at the center.

And then one day, we go.

The same people gather again. This time with tears. This time with goodbye.

Welcome. Happy Birthday. Congratulations. Goodbye.

Seems to be the pattern.

At this point, I could tell you how beautiful life is. I could say “hate less, love more.” But that’s all bullshit.

Life is weird.

I don’t know why our consciousness took on the form of a human body. I don’t know what these experiences mean.

But I do know one thing: one day someone will bring your last outfit to the funeral home. One day someone will push your coffin to the final resting place. It’s a guarantee.

Live your life, do your thing, but remember this is all temporary.

The arguments, the irritations, the worries, they’ll be for absolutely nothing.

That thought shouldn’t darken your day. It should liberate you.

Rest in peace, Biji.

I’ll see you on the other side.