Blood! So much blood!
Too much blood!
Too much!
And in my heart of hearts I knew: there was no way for him to come back from this. Bud I didn't want to acknowledge it.
Not yet.
Just a few moments ago I had been sitting at the computer working on som...
The next week I tried my best to get out of the grieving mode. Which had turned out not to be grieving, really, but having succumbed to a kind of victim mentality.
To help me in my quest, I intensified all those helpful practices that I had carried out over the past months.
And it did made a difference. But whenever the happiness in my heart attempted to spread to the rest of my being, it got immediately blocked by the heaviness that reigned supreme in my emotions and in my body.
Even the slightest hint of sentimentality in anything that I heard, saw or read, had me bursting into tears.
Like the sight of a dying plant that I had forgotten to water; the words 'farewell' or 'final'; the video of funny animals that also showed a goat eating a duckling (honestly, what kind of jerk thought that this was funny?!); the supportive card of a friend telling me she thought of me often...
Fortunately, my mind was the same it had always been: mostly positive, with an intense urge to understand what was going on within me. It also acknowledged all the inner and outer support that I was receiving. But at the same time, my mind still struggled with the fact that the Supreme had not listened to my fervent prayers. (Even though it believed that everything had been for a reason.)
As for my outer being, I spent most of the time alone in my beautiful apartment. And I was happy to be able to do so and happy that my doctor had put me on sick-leave. Because at that point, even having one appointment a week was a heavy burden on my psyche and something that stressed me for days beforehand.
Therefore, I was a bit concerned that meeting a friend for lunch on Thursday, traveling to Vienna on Friday for a shop-leader meeting (which I felt obliged to attend in spite of my situation) and hosting a Bhajan's Evening in our centre on Saturday, might put too much of a strain on my system. (Well, to be honest, I was not actually the one hosting the evening of devotional songs. I was only attending and helping a little bit, even though I was the leader of our meditation centre. But the other members had really wanted to keep up the tradition created by Dipavajan decades ago, even though I had told them that I would be rather useless in organizing anything for the time being.)
And even though it was possible for me to sleep until the early hours of the Sunday afternoon, I was still rather exhausted when I arrived at the beautifully decorated centre at around two pm with all the items on my shopping list and ready to help prepare prasad. But the sight of all my friends being busy together and getting everything ready for the event gave me joy and warmed my heart.
Now all that was left, was for our guests from some of the other centres close by to arrive.
Over the next few hours they trickled in. Which had me fight my tears over and over again, as everyone who had not seen me since Dipavajan's passing wanted to hug me, comfort me and express their sincere condolences. They also enquired how I felt. Which was not easy to answer, as there was so much going on within me, so much I had discovered and so much that I was still working on. How to put that into a simple sentence? "I'm quite okay." Well, this had to do for the moment.
After most of our guests had arrived - there are always some latecomers - we started with the meditation at the scheduled time of five pm.
A touch of melancholy hit me at the sight of the sparsely populated centre. When Dipavajan had been alive, there had been barely any room to sit in our spacious blue-carpeted meditation room. But that evening, only a few friends had gathered.
Of course, all those other years Dipavajan had personally invited just about everyone that he had come into contact with. And those had always been plenty. Therefore, it had come as no surprise that our current Bhajan's Evening lacked the usual crowded, but cosy feeling.
Don't mourn the absence of those who are not here. Be grateful for those who are! I admonished myself inwardly and – pulling myself together – I decided to do my best to give all those assembled a beautiful, rewarding time.
After all, the members of our centre had put a lot of effort into the event, even going so far as to schedule regular rehearsals.
After the first hour of singing and playing the dynamic, soul-stirring tunes dedicated to the Goddess Kali, I resigned myself to the fact that the intense feeling of vibrant energy, which had always created this special, blissful and hypnotic atmosphere, was not going to make its appearance. And that there was a real possibility that it might never come back.
Repeating the songs over and over had been nice, but lacking that otherworldly sparkle, which had always left me delighted and floating on a cloud at the end of the evening.
Oh, Dipavajan! How could you leave us all like this, knowing full well how much your charm, your enthusiasm, your dynamism and life-energy will be missed! Yes, life would continue, it always does. But keeping the centre happy and flourishing had just become considerably more difficult.
Without any other expectation than to repeat the experience of the first hour, I resumed my place behind the harmonium after a lengthy and - very chatty - prasad break. (Prasad is blessed – and usually quite delicious – food that we prepare ourselves and take after a group meditation session.)
But halfway into the first song, I noticed that something had changed. Out of the blue, there it was again: the Divine Touch of the Bhajans, which flooded the whole room with an atmosphere of joy and light so thick, it was almost tangible.
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Like at the Joy Day, my heart expanded.
I half expected the grief in my system to block it again.
But this time, the energy all around was too powerful. Within mere moments it flowed through me in the form of a column as wide as my body, breaking through all barriers and flooding me with love, light and happiness. The sadness and the heavy feeling in my system didn't stand a chance against Kali's delight. It didn't even put up a fight.
My heart exploded in ecstasy and expanded far into the room.
I started grinning impossibly wide as I realized that all obstructions were completely gone.
Eradicated.
Swept away by the feeling of bliss that filled my being to such an extent, that nothing else remained.
And for the first time since the start of Dipavajan's illness, I was unreservedly happy.
And free.
And it stayed that way.
Jay (Victory to) Guru.
Jay Mother Kali.
Jay Supreme.
Hi everybody. Thank you so much for following me through this dramatic part of my life-story and all the way to my recovery. And I hope that I've managed to inspire you to look at the matter of life and death with new eyes and that everything that I experienced and learned might help you, should you one day have to deal with a similar situation.
Please let me know what you think and whether you feel that something is missing. Is there anything you would like me to add/elaborate on?
Big hugs and lots of love, joy, hope and strength to each and everyone of you, my readers, for your life-journey!
