Gauri Gharpure studied journalism at Columbia University, New York, on a Fulbright grant. She makes paper jewellery. Follow her on twitter @gaurigharpure
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My first brush with death was at four years when my pet squirrel was eaten up by a dog. Though I got over it fast, I felt similar inadequacy, hopelessness and frustration like when I lost humans later
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This year marked many deaths of famous personalities the world over. Tamil Nadu chief minister J. Jayalalitha passed over after a long hospitalisation. On Tuesday, Star Wars actor "Princess Leia" Carrie Fisher died. The next day, her 84-year-old mother Debbie Reynolds, also a Hollywood icon, died of a stroke. To Kill a Mocking Bird author Harper Lee and The Name of the Rose author Umberto Eco both died on February 19. Singers David Bowie, Prince and George Michael are just some other iconic names to have bid good bye from a long list of celebrities this year. These men and women have all left behind a legacy of intellectual and artistic expression and have left heartbroken fans and followers.
The passing of celebrities makes news, for all the right reasons, but it is the passing of loved ones from close circles that truly teaches us the meaning of death - and life. Unexpected and untimely death jolts us out of our comfort zone, makes us question our habit of taking life for granted and in good measure, provides us with invaluable opportunities to make amends to live fully the time we have left.
This column is for readers who have lost their loved ones this year and for whom the new year seems but a bleak change of date. In days following the sudden death of a dear one, every day living feels like a struggle. In June this year also I had written a piece on death. The onslaught of sudden news continued for the second half as well. But, even as people die, and harsh though it may sound; time will pass; dates will change and life will go on. In honour of this undeniable truth, I write with a hope to make the transition to 2017 a little more bearable for some of my readers.
Nothing could have prepared me for the untimely death of my mother. After she died, it seemed that the year would never end. We couldn't see beyond a day and yet, today, calendars have flipped and decades have transitioned. Life blossomed the first chance we allowed it. Some memories of mother are crystal clear and some have become hazy with time. There is guilt in not being able to remember clearly some moments, but there is also joy and a fair bit of pride in having allowed new memories to take shape.
My first brush with death was at four years when my pet squirrel was eaten up by a dog. Though I got over it fast, I felt similar inadequacy, hopelessness and frustration like when I lost humans later. Some people may take offence at (or fail to understand) the simile, but those who have cared for animals will know that learning to care and cope, and the transition after the passing, is smoother for those who have lost their animal friends early on. Whenever a pet died, its mute transitions taught me as a child to cry without restraint, to hold my anger and to catalogue difficult doubts and questions to be sorted out later. It prepared me for worse things to come.
Everything that passes takes with it its unique beauty and everything needs to be grieved with due respect and abandon. But, moving on is essential. I have seen and heard of several people who refuse to move on after the death of their loved ones. Emotional outbursts, tantrums and uncontrolled crying continues for months and years after the passing. Death also demands a certain dignity. Those who choose to grieve endlessly like it were a solemn duty do not only a disservice to themselves, but also to the other family members by refusing to let them move on. There is only so much empathy, and later sympathy, that one can get. After a while, stubborn brooding over death and persistence to mourn cuts people off from even those who feel kindly about them. Those who move on with zeal and joy in spite of their circumstances find much more respect in my eyes than those who choose to sit back and mourn for life.
Reading, music, cooking or gardening - any activity that distracts the mind - eases mourning. This stanza from Sri Aurobindo's poem Savitri (Canto One - The Symbol Dawn) has always spoken to me like it were counselling me to cope with death:
A memory quivered in the heart of Time
As if a soul long dead were moved to live:
But the oblivion that succeeds the fall,
Had blotted the crowded tablets of the past,
And all that was destroyed must be rebuilt
And old experience laboured out once more.
The immediate aftermath of death is like emotional paralysis. There is fear and doubt. Hope plunges to abysmal depths and it feels impossible to start believing again. Getting back to routine tasks feels like battle. Socialising becomes stressful. Lean in to your comfort zone at such times. But, don't lean in too much. For those taking care of recently bereaved friends or relatives, give them their space but don't patronise the grieving and don't let them make a habit of it. Gently but firmly, remind them of the life that awaits them. The rewards to moving on are plenty and time heals if one allows it to. I say this after having survived one such time.
