The Thin Line Between Sad and Happy

I hate saying this, but what I thought would be a horribly sad and depressing day, turned out to be one of the best in a while. I shouldn't be surprised. There's something wonderful about being around people you care about and love at the passing of another. I remember, when my dada-ji passed away - or even my grandparents from my mom's side of the family - the entire fam-bam came together almost every single day for about two weeks. We'd all bring food and gather at someone's house (usually at my vadaa dada's - grandpa's older brother). Us kids, we were still kids then, would run around the house playing games that we'd made up, would watch movies, and terrorize the adults (and the kids younger than us - although, they used to terrorize us back with equal glee). We knew we were at a sombre affair, but then we'd look at the adults, cousins - most of them, and watch them talking and laughing and smiling and enjoying life, and then go back to being ourselves. 

As we got older, the same tradition continued. The people in my family, up until my father's generation, have always worked together, and lived together until being forced out of their homes in Africa almost 40 years ago. As the years went by, the family started getting more nuclear, but would bond - instantaneously - at death, or birth, or other celebrations. When vadaa dada-ji passed away, we all gathered at his house. The oldest of us kids were now almost adults, and had a better sense of what was going on. But our fun and games continued. We didn't make them up, or watch movies back-to-back (that was the purview of the 3rd and 2nd batch of kids, respectively). We sat around the small food bar in the kitchen, with a bunch of our younger aunts and uncles, other relatives and friends, and joked around, while the others did the same in the dining room. And when we'd go home, I'd leave with a sense of joy and, more so, a desire that all of us would be able to get again and do the same. 

It's almost like the same thing is happening right now. A friend of mine passed away this Summer and his memorial was held, here, yesterday. Friends from around the country, who I had spent the Summer with in India and who also knew this friend who passed, flew in for the memorial. It was wonderful to see them again, and we kept on reminiscing about the thousands of things that we had done, or had seen in Lucknow a couple months ago. In a series of hard days over the past few weeks, it was a wonderful release (and relief). The ceremony was sad. I don't cry when I'm deeply saddened, but started crying (for about 15 seconds) during the shabad at the service. Afterwards though, it was back to the traditional mode of dealing with death - laughter.

Funny story. When my mother's father passed away (my nana-ji), we all gathered at his/my nani-ji's house. This was the first death in my mother's family and so everyone was super sombre and super quiet and super sad. Having dealt with death multiple times before that, I wasn't as affected as my other cousins and relatives. We were all sitting around in the living room, when my mother got up and wandered around, looking for her phone. She had just gotten it and was still getting used to it. Having found it, she started fiddling around with it, but it wouldn't work. She asked me to help and told me that it wasn't turning on even though she had pressed the power button multiple times. From across the room I semi-shouted, "It's dead!"

Everyone looked up. Stared at me. I realized what I'd said and chuckled. Everyone kept on staring at me in shock and horror, and then finally one person laughed, then another, until the entire room was giggling. It broke the ice, and the awkward tension that had settled over the room dissipated quickly thereafter. When my nani-ji passed away, a couple years later, my mother's family was much more open and calm (and prone to fitful bursts of laughter).

I hate saying this, because it's just so wrong, but a part of me misses those days when we got together. And I know I'll miss this weekend, because of the same reason.

RIP those of you who have moved on. Till we meet again.