I was checking some of our digital pictures from 2011 or so today. My heart soared and ached at the same time.
There was a video of Hari and Ram dressed as Balaram and Krishna for Janmashtami. Ram was barely able to talk but he was filling in the blanks for the Krishna story. Hari, patiently, playing the big brother role was filling in for him in broken tamizh and letting him have the last word. Those pudgy cheeks, eager eyes, and tender hands. I fell in love with both of them all over again.
There were several pictures in which Hari and his cousin Vish were dressed in similar clothes and doing all sorts of things from bursting fire crackers to playing cricket to the kumara bhojanam at Vish’s poonal function. They are about the same age. They barely keep in touch with each other but when they are together, they pick it up right from where they left.
My eyes became moist as I saw pictures of my mil, and grandparents – once people pass away, that’s it, right? You lose them for life, isn’t it? All you are left with are the memories and the love. With every passing year, the memories fade but the love deepens, for absence creates fondness. Why do we tolerate people less in life but glorify them in death? Why is it so hard to be kind, nice, loving and forgiving when we have them in our midst ? Even as these thoughts swirled in my head, a wave of gratitude washed over me – short or long, we were so lucky to have had that time with them.