The sky was downcast; the wind was blowing through our hair, chilling our bones , our hearts, our souls.
Droplets of rain fell onto our skins, dripping off onto the tarred ground.
The horn blared, the organ played, the drums drummed.
The funeral procession started.
My uncle passed away on Monday at the age of 83 and today was the funeral.
He lived long, he lived hard and the idea of him passing must have played in our minds but when the news came, it was still a shock; a little hard to digest.
It was hard, seeing the house that my family and I go to every single week, sometimes every other day even, being converted into a place of mourning. Hard to believe that the man will no longer be there, the man whose presence I took for granted.
It was even harder seeing my aunt, being the strong woman that she is, looking so vulnerable; her love for him so palpable, so solid.
Things will never be the same.
And yet, with loss, grief and tears, there can still be strength. Life is displayed by the energetic young grandchildren running with cunning in their eyes while monks chant in the background. Humour is in the muffled laughter and smiles when something funny crops up.
Continuance is in the din heard when the clan come together.
Life goes on indeed, when the mourning is over and respect is accorded.
Life goes on indeed when the same aunt, presses those present to "Eat some more!"
Life goes on indeed when everyone gathers around the food table, stuffing themselves silly and talking about anything at all.
And to some extent, we all know that to be true.
That life indeed will go on.
Life gained, life lost; life lived, life passed.
Make it one helluva ride.
Rest in peace, dear uncle.
Sometimes memories, like a mischievous child, play tricks on the mind, and that which seems real might not have occured at all.
But sometimes it seems too real to ignore.
And wounds may cut deep and the mind chooses to delete and is unsure,
and yet it haunts, and questions remain unanswered.
But the journey continues, and forgiveness is due.
For the sake of me, and for you.
The past is that, the past;
And I'll remember to forget,
To not look back and wonder
But to let it go, to set it free
For it is what it is,
and I am what I am;
No one's at fault.
No one's to blame.
That will set us free.