Partings and destinations . . . .

The morning my father passed away, I was 7000 miles from home on a business trip. Till arrangements for return were finalized two days had gone by and the funeral was over before I could reach

My four year old met me at the gate on my return with tears the size of golf balls welling up in her eyes. In one swift rush she ran into my arms and the dam of her grief collapsed. Wrestling with my own broken heart, it took all the self-control I possessed to keep my own tears in check and console my sobbing child. After a while comforted by my presence, she began to tell me the details of events that had transpired in my absence.

“Daddy, ‘pa (her adaptation of Grandpa) was sleeping and sleeping and mummy started crying and Vijay uncle (my younger brother) came and Nitu aunty (my younger sister) came and all were crying. Then slowly, slowly many people came and put ‘pa in a big box and took him away. And ‘pa didn’t come home for three days. Where is ‘pa, Daddy? Nobody is telling me. Mummy is not cooking food also and everyday uncle or aunty is bringing food. Why, Daddy?”

I was speechless. How does one explain death to innocence? How does one explain such final partings to a child bursting with life? Probably, my silence and the sadness on my face quelled her curiosity to silence and I walked into the house hugging her close to my heart. Meeting the rest of the family was a tearful reunion. 

A few days later, I found her sitting in my father’s favourite armchair with a far away look on her face and when my presence registered on her, she looked up with a rapturous face and said,

“Papa, when I close my eyes, ‘pa hugs me and tells me stories. I like his chair, very much. You don’t be sad, come sit in this chair and he will hug you also.”

 Awash with overpowering emotion, I just picked her up and clutched her close to me unprepared for her next question.

“Papa, when you also have white hair, and sleep and sleep, will they take you away in a box?” Where will you go because I cannot live without you and I’ll come to the gate and wait for you till you come back. Don’t become a star in the sky.” 

Dumbfounded, I looked deep into her crystal clear soul where an unspoken horror lurked at such a possibility. Bursting with love, I wondered where I would be. For such a love would never take me very far from her. She’d been telling me that ‘pa was now a star in the sky because her aunt had said so.

I knew, as she grew older she’d understand such losses yet to pacify that racing heart thudding against my chest, I said to her,

“Sweetheart, I’ll become the air you breathe because you cannot live without me and no one can live without air.” And as I uttered those words, the space around me swelled and I felt father’s warm embrace while my daughter’s face lit up with the wisdom of a knowledge much more than those words had expressed. 

Partings are inevitable, I’ve known yet not so unbearable if love is the spiritual destination . . .