The toughest journey...

In December 2023, I embarked on the toughest journey of my life. It wasn't an adventurous climb up Everest or Kilimanjaro, but a poignant journey from London to New Delhi and back, when I brought my beloved Papa home in a framed picture.

Now, weeks after his departure and the melancholic return flight, I find myself in a sea of memories, drowning in an overwhelming sense of loss. They say time heals, but in this moment, that notion feels distant.

I lost my father and with that I lost a part of myself. His endearing nickname for me- "Ricky," now echoes in emptiness, a name that feels incomplete without the warmth of his voice. This was his special name for me. With him I lost my identity as Ricky. No one else will ever use that name to refer to me....without him, Ricky does not exist.

We loose a part of ourselves, when we loose our loved ones. Our loved ones contribute to the tapestry of who we are, influencing our beliefs, values, and the very essence of our existence...somewhere on the return flight I realised I was grieving both for Papa and my extinguished identity..my favourite identity of my Papa's daughter.

Papa's departure was also a rude reminder that life is fragile...you know never know which interaction will be the last....we therefore don't want to be rude, unkind, hurtful as your last emotion towards anyone.

My last meeting with Papa was a happy expedition. We went to buy Malihabadi Mangoes. He was not very mobile, however, he insisted we go to the local mandi ( farmer's market) and not the neighbourhood fruit shop to ensure I got the best possible Mangoes to take back to London. Papa was both delighted and content with the final selection of mangoes. Besides, selecting fruit was one of his favourite things to do.

I didn't know that was the last time we would meet...I had three weeks booked in December to spend with my parents, only the three weeks were then to be filled with a funeral and other rituals. I thought with success in his treatment we had few more months...possible years if we were lucky and I genuinely believed so.

With is departure, I am reminded to not take ourselves seriously. We are an ordinary spec in an extraordinary universe...yet we make these grand plans..in our lives as if we know. As if we control. We don't.

However, that doesn't mean we do not make plans. At the end when it is time to go, let us all be blessed with the contentment....we lived well and there was no unfinished business. Every day was lived well, with love, with kindness, and fulfilment.

I am also reminded the importance of extending ourselves for our loved ones...that phone call which seems a lot when we are busy, the quick weekend trip or the long drive to see your fam even if the visit seems too short, the extra Uber Eats late night order for cheesecake and the conversation that follows....all of which we are later so glad we did.

Amongst this loss, and my sea of thoughts I am reminded of His Holiness, Dalai Lama's guidance....we are visitors of Earth for 90-100 years at the max. And with this consolation, I can say Papa used his life meaningfully, his mission on earth was complete and he has taken the bridge to heaven to be reunited with our loved ones in heaven.

Until we meet again Papa, and when we do, I promise to report the time without you lived well with love, kindness and ambition (ambition was so important to you) and having cherished you in the time to come when you are not going to be with me physically.

Om Shanti.