From Where No Traveler Returns
Feb 18, 2019
Mystery surrounds the origin of beings;
Mysterious too is their end.
-- Shloka 28, Communion through Knowledge, The Bhagavad Gita
Mysterious too is their end.
-- Shloka 28, Communion through Knowledge, The Bhagavad Gita
I stepped on the treadmill, pressed the up arrow on the incline five times, set
my speed to 6mph, and started jogging. I was determined to beat my emotions. Five minutes into my run, though,
my eyes welled up. I hit stop and retired to a sofa in a dark corner of the gym. I pressed my face into my
hands and sobbed.
I had just received news that my father-in-law had passed away.
My FIL and I had not had the closest relationship, to be honest. We rarely inhabited the same house. In the last
few years, after his hearing declined, we had not even talked to each other much on the phone. I last saw him a
month ago, when we went to India to celebrate his 80th birthday.I had just received news that my father-in-law had passed away.
So when I heard of his demise, several emotions came flooding to me at once.: deep deep sadness, a twinge of regret, a sense of loss for human life, and concern for the loved ones left behind. A month ago, we didn't expect that his life would end so soon. Things went south so fast. I kept reliving his last days: his fall in the bathroom, him getting disabled as a result, the relentless and excruciating pain he told us of, him beaming at us in the last video call from the hospital...so many memories played in my head on repeat.
I caught a flight to India two days after. We mourned him the Hindu way for 13 straight days. Those days were tinged with heavy grief. Aunts and uncles and cousins rushed to our side - some bringing food, some words of comfort. My father put aside his own ailments to give us assistance. I felt gratitude for every single person that came to our aid, and an appreciation for the Indian social system that puts family dead center.
When someone close to you dies, you come face-to-face with human mortality. It shakes you to the core. I introspected a lot in those 13 days of mourning. Sooner or later, death will come to me. Am I living a good life? Am I gonna prove worthy of this brief chance at existence I have? As I reflected, I sought refuge in philosophy and certain truths came to me with the force of a thousand ton truck:
1. Money cannot challenge the larger forces of nature.
We spend too much of our energies running around, accumulating wealth. My FIL was bedridden for a couple of weeks after his fall. During that period, he lost agency of his body - one limb and one organ at a time. All the dollars and rupees that we - his family - have couldn't erase his pains and give him back the control of his body. All the dear possessions he had collected were left behind. He suffered an unfathomable level of neurologic pain. He lost consciousness and couldn't open his eyes to see his sons ONE LAST TIME. Money got him to a hospital where he could be treated, yes. But when the larger forces of nature took over, money could speak no more.
2. When you don't think you need people is EXACTLY when you should nurture relationships.
My husband taught us all this lesson in the midst of our crisis. He had always been a good-natured man who nurtured even seemingly random relationships. He puzzled and even frustrated us occasionally with his tendency to speak at length with people at inopportune times.
But as my FIL fell gravely ill, the thousand plants he had planted through his life - without a rhyme or reason to plant them - bloomed. All his prior friendships proved valuable in our time of need. Someone offered to find us the right medical advice. Someone helped arrange for domestic help. Someone had our back for much of the legal and financial things that needed sorting out. It became crystal clear that it is important to build and nurture relationships - no matter how irrelevant they might seem at the moment.
3. Live the kind of life that you'll be happy about in the end.
Everyone who is born has to die. There is nothing more certain than that. Entropy always increases. Every moment you're living, you're inching toward death. In the brief interval you have between life and death, how do you choose to live? What does leading a good life mean to you? As I mourned my FIL's death, it became clear to me that I want to show up in life as a kind and good human, I want to learn to be a better me every day, and I want to leave the world something of value for having hosted me....
When confronted with the death of a dear one, I realized your world turns upside down. You think of your own death. You think of your own life too. And you wonder: how long have I got left, and how I can make the best of it?