“Death ends a life, not a relationship.” ― Mitch Albom

A few weeks ago, I looked back at my journal from September 1, 2020. That day was the anniversary of my Grandmother’s death 14 years prior. My aunt had texted our family WhatsApp threads with a brief history of her life, and it brought some unexpected tears.

Then again, grief is often unexpected. And it’s never a simple thread of one loss. Grief is layered, compounded with different experiences of pain throughout our lives.

Death is something I am coming to accept more and more. It affects every single human – a great unifier of sorts.

But we resist it. Rage against it. Protest it when it comes unjustly. Mourn it when it comes tragically. Are shocked by it when it comes suddenly. We know it’s inevitable but we refuse to acknowledge it in any meaningful way.

Perhaps it’s because we don’t have a clear understanding of what happens next. Are our souls infinite? Do we serve a specific purpose for a specific time in any given lifetime? Could we believe when death comes, it is always meant to be, no matter how senseless or how heartbreaking?

Death will always come and we will keep living. The question I am currently interested in – how do we make both count?

[Photo: My Aunt, Cousin, Ammachy (Grandmother), Mom, Appacha (Grandfather), Cousin, and Myself at age 5 – we were at the airport, my Mom and I leaving India to move to Canada]