Of death, poetry and grief

Facebook today reminded me of a post (Full post at the bottom) from 2014, nine years ago to the date. In the post, I had referenced the death of a friend, and as well as how poignant the song "The Circle of Life" from The Lion King, a movie I had been watching with my 8-year old at the time, had felt. There were a bunch of comments from friends and family, most of those who didn't know the friend in question. I have been getting these throwback reminders from Facebook of late, perhaps reminding me of a time when I was somewhat active on Facebook. Purely from that standpoint, reading the post did not evoke a whole lot of excitement. However, something about that did touch a chord, and that's why I am writing about it. 

I have had difficulty reading long form writing for a while now. I, who would gobble up books at an enviable pace, have been struggling to pick up a book to read, and to finish it if I did get around to picking up one to read. I have been attributing it to diminution in attention span, the lure of the doomscroll, and basically the need for instant gratification. I am not happy about the situation - not about the outcome, certainly not about the underlying reasons. I have been feeling better about it by turning attention to short form writing, more specifically poetry. I have been enjoying both reading and writing poetry of late. 

Two things stood out to me, as I read through the post and the comments. One, that I had turned to poetry at an earlier point in life - I thought the draw to poetry was a recent development. I do gravitate towards poetry for solace and to make sense of a world when it doesn't make much sense. That this is not new, that poetry has been a feature of my life, something that I would keep going back to every so often, was somewhat revelatory.  

A book that I am currently reading is "Maybe you should talk to someone" by Lori Gottlieb. It was recommended to me by a friend, and while I had promptly purchased the book, it has been gathering dust in various corners of my house for a few weeks now. The wishlist of things to do during my staycation included trying to read, and I picked this one up. The book is written by a TV-show-writer turned therapist, and she talks about her work with her clients as well as her own journey with her therapist. The point of the book is to talk through the process of talk therapy, while also providing the reader with the latest in research in clinical psychology. It also intends to make therapy less intimidating to the reader. The style is engaging, and like after every episode of an OTT TV series, I am left wanting to know how each of her clients is progressing (or not) through their journey. A lot of what she writes resonates with me, and I am able to relate what she writes about to my own journey in therapy. This may just be the book that will get me out of the reading hiatus (fingers crossed). 

Back to the FB post. The other thing that the Facebook post had was a comment from Amma. Actually, two comments. One asking who this friend in question was. Another follow up comment asking if she knew the friend (she knew a lot of my friends, and she would enquire about each of them every now and then), and that she was sorry to know about the loss. Reading those comments brought a lot of feelings. Chief of them was nostalgia. My head immediately went to "that is just so typical of Amma - thoughtful, caring, and making an effort to connect." She likely would have picked the phone as soon as she posted the comment, to continue the conversation - to find out more about the friend, how I knew her, what had happened, etc. In the process she would have held the space to express my emotions. 

I am also struck by how details of my life with Amma are blurring out. What used to be a vivid mega-series in color, with images, dialogue and emotions, is now reduced to snapshots from an old photo album, left to interpretation of the story behind the memory.  It has only been a little over a year and a half (21 months to be precise) since she passed. What was once a rich tapestry is already shredding to resemble a worn out piece of cloth, and I worry about struggling to hold on to threads before they disintegrate even further. 

Grief is such a strange emotion. It is universal - each and every one of us has lost or will have lost someone dear to them. Yet it is intensely personal - how each person processes it and deals with it is unique. Maybe it is similar to most emotions in that sense - universal yet personal. The unique thing about grief is that we are never adequately prepared to deal with it. The coping mechanism is not relevant when you are not experiencing the emotion, and it doesn't come with headlights on. Grief is a sneaky one, turns up when you least expect it, forces you to acknowledge its presence, sits there watching you suffer, and refuses to leave. 

Amma's passing is an inflection point in my life like no other. It also happens that the timing coincided with my moving half way across the world, uprooted from everything familiar, to building a career and a life in a new environment. Grief is a fixture in my life. So is poetry. Therapy is an attempt at dismantling the pieces and putting them back together (not unlike a jigsaw puzzle), in the hope that the next version makes more sense. 

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The post
Two unrelated events - one, news that a friend from 13 years ago passed away very suddenly. Pray that she move on to a happier place. Two, was watching The Lion King with my son. Found the following lyrics very relevant.

From the day we arrive on the planet
And, blinking, step into the sun
There's more to see than can ever be seen
More to do than can ever be done
There's far too much to take in here
More to find than can ever be found
But the sun rolling high
Through the sapphire sky
Keeps great and small on the endless round
It's the circle of life
And it moves us all
Through despair and hope
Through faith and love
'Til we find our place
On the path unwinding
In the circle
The circle of life
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PS: There was a comment in the post from Suguna Chithi, Amma's cousin. She had said "Nothing unrelated in the world. Your thoughts will bring peace to everyone, here and elsewhere." Suguna Chithi and Amma were close cousins, and while life had taken them both down different paths, they constantly checked in with each other, and had a mutual admiration society going on. Suguna Chithi had passed away very suddenly a couple of months before Amma did, and the news of her passing had done a number on Amma. I will remember Suguna Chithi as a wise aunt, someone who was levelheaded and had a great attitude to living life.