Feelings can play games with you.
When my brother died, although its meterologically impossible I remembered the hurricane that spun up almost spontaneously in the Atlantic. then disappeared the next day. When my father in law died, I remember looking up to the sky and just seeing these clouds rocket overhead. Last night, I remembered a strange full moon over the trees / when my mother in law died.
I still wonder about them.
She was dark. Really dark. And she was a great swimmer. She had an atmosphere in her home that was nice. She was a nice person. My children never knew her.
Maybe a part lives on. One thing that seems to have changed in me, is that I've become less prone to the standard, silly things that had been going on. My daughter, on the way back to a sleepover last night from the telephone call - started cutting down my son again and I just stopped her cold. She's not done it again. My son kicked in his usual asperger's syndrome-like way of dealing with things. Stopped him. I wasn't mean, but I forced them to look at things a different way.
Oddly, I started a training plan for a tri - to her memory - before she actualy died. As soon as I started it, she passed away. I didn't actually know she was dying. The phones had been out for a while to where she was. Was she checking in on me?
I didn't really know my mother in law, but what little of her I did know I loved. And I am pretty sure that now that she's gone. My wife will stay in India, even still. Her passing left behind a gift -- I seem to be able to cut out the white noise today. I think if I run the iron that I'm planning to run, with her name on me - the whitenoise will stop completely.
We went to temple, I was proud of the kids. There were the gods. Durga. Krishna. A prayer at 7, the off-key vedic songs. Prasanna. We left good rice, a peach, bananas, and grapes. I showed the children how to hold them before the gods, and set them down - hands together. Very simple. They walked once counterclockwise around the altar. As we left, the priest called us forward, for Prasana.
After, my daughter , my son and I walked up to the hill where the Mandir is going to be built. My son jumped on the swing. My daughter saw a spot for her clan meetings and wanted me to see it. I told my son to get started swinging, I would join him - and then I walked to the tall hill where my daughter had skipped towards. They were both happy. She went off into the woods to explore and I hit the swings. Something in me was still fairly depressed.
When I came home, I didn't really feel like doing much, until my friend came over with my dog and his - he stopped by and we spoke for a while. He seemed very matter of fact about everything. I think it was then, I decided to sort of move on. I was glad to see him. I wanted him to see my longboard. I brought it out, and he rode it for a while and then he left with the dogs. The kids were out playing, so I went skateboarding with them. I was also pretty hungry, being that I am fasting in a sense - doing completely without bread, meat, dairy - for a few days. But that went away after awhile and we ended up getting some great turns in down the hill, kids on the bikes + I on my longboard.
It felt good to be out there. When we were done I was covered in sweat. My son who had caught lightning bugs through the dusk (and put them in a zippered pocket) decided this was a great time to roll in the grass. So we rolled down the hill in front of my home + I gave him a big hug and we went in.
And the day ends listening to the Suite for Solo Cello in G Major by Bach, Prelude 1. Sadhana died yesterday 6/7/9 at 4:40 India time, or about 6:10 our time (to calculate time in India count 1.5 hours back, then flip night to day). I feel a sense of freedom. Finally at peace with all that happened.
She suffered intensely. My wife saw fit to deny her morphine. The pain must have been overwhelming. I finally got through, and heard her screaming in the background.
I was asked by a friend if my wife will now return. No. She'll stay for a while. Eventually she'll come back. Maybe we'll go to her. When we meet again, it will be a meeting of respect, and love. And I will listen and understand. I want the passing of Sadhana to mean something. For me, it means carpe diem. For my relationship with my wife, it means my tolerance level is now officially zero. She will have her chance with me when she returns. I will give her grace.
And then if she's up to her old tricks again I will drop her like a sack of garbage.