Death and Life

Dealing With Grief

Death is not the end.

Death can never be the end.

Death is the road.

Life is the traveller.

The Soul is the Guide.

    - Sri Chinmoy

Then later that day, when I woke up at two pm after a fitful, restless sleep, I felt rather disjointed from myself.

I had finally turned off the light at around four am, but fallen asleep much later.

Getting out of bed, every movement felt utterly robotic and I did not quite know what to do with myself. I randomly remembered that I'd been informed in the hospital by the compassionate nurse that I would still be receiving the full amount of the money Dipavajan and I had been allotted by the state for the next two weeks.

Which gave me some room to breathe.

Taking a shower, I went through the motions on auto-pilot. I had no drive, no goal, no appetite. My (very late!) morning meditation granted me a brief respite from my sorrows, but I had a hard time praying or singing the usual songs.

"Why should I continue praying, what is the use, if you ignore it, anyway?!" I angrily shouted at the Supreme at one point, tears streaming down my face.

No reply.

Of course not.

Except for the persistent joy inside my heart, which became more pronounced each time I felt particularly sad. I acknowledged the fact, but I was not ready to fully accept the Divine Gift, just yet. My emotions were still too raw and the whole situation much too painful. And in spite of understanding that Dipavajan's soul must have wanted to leave - maybe its present bliss in the other realm was even the source for the joy in my heart - I felt so incredibly sorry for the human being that he had been and which had lost the fight against the disease.

Which was the reason why I was angry with the Supreme, as I had really prayed with all my desperation and intensity for Dipavajan to become healthy again. For us to find the right cure in time, for the Supreme to forgive us for whatever needed to be forgiven in our lives and for Him to lead us and inspire us to do the right things.

And I was also angry with Him for having sent me false messages of hope every time I had been on the edge, about to collapse from the fear and despair from having to watch Dipavajan's health slowly deteriorate.

Like this one time in the Viennese underground, when I was on the way to the train station to get back home to Graz. Having just talked to a friend about Dipavajan, I had dissolved into tears and been barely able to see where I was going. Supreme, is there really no way for him to recover?! Can't you do something - anything?! Suddenly, I stood in front of a bright yellow sign attached to a building site fence, declaring: 'Don't worry, everything is going to be alright'. For good measure, it was decorated with a big smiley. The synchronicity of it made me chuckle and smile through my tears.

At the time, I'd taken this sign and many more like it, to mean that Dipavajan would recover.

Wiping my eyes I sighed deeply at the memory and decided that I was done with my spiritual 'morning' program. I absentmindedly reached for my phone and disabled the flight mode.

'Pling, pling, pling' It appeared that I had received multiple messages while asleep.

Answering those and also the new ones that kept coming kept me busy for a while. But after some time I took a small break from texting to change into sweatpants and a T-shirt that had once been blessed by Guru. Finally, I ventured into the living room - phone in my hand - to say hello to my gerbils. But even they appeared to be a bit subdued, as they did not seem to be eager to venture out of their cage and onto the sofa to play with me. But that might have been just a projection on my part.