Who knows what will finally happen or where I will be sent, yet already I have given a great many things away, expecting to be told to pack nothing, except the prayers which, with this thirst, I am slowly learning.
-–Mary Oliver
The journey my mother embarked upon on June 21, 2008 is the one we all must take eventually. I thought somehow – because she had Alzheimer’s disease and had long since stopped recognizing us – that I was prepared to let her go. But when the end came, it was poignant and fierce and yet another crossroad in my own journey.
That’s how it is. We do not live as islands. Our journey through life, though essentially solitary, is actually more like being in a crowded train compartment. My passage touches yours and yours influences mine. Our roles keep changing, there are side trips, breakdowns and rest stops, but we are all on it together. And we ride to the end of the line.
When Mom died, I was overcome with grief, but a grief so pure it felt more like a gift. Its depth and proportion felt exactly right for the astonishing person she was. She was a complex woman, with imagination and a profound sense of mystery, but it was not complicated to love her. When she died, I thought about how easy she made her passing for those who cared for her – she left us with no regrets, no anxieties, no web of conflicting emotions.
The purity of her life was like that of a person on pilgrimage. Her purpose was clear. She didn’t worry about the things that normally consume us: the price of the ticket, the window seat or the aisle, who was steering the train or how far out of her way a particular route took her. She knew it was all good, and that all roads lead eventually to the same place. It is how one travels that matters.
For the last fifteen years of her life, her special needs increased, At the end, she was as dependent as an infant. Who would ever have thought it? She graduated from college summa cum laude, wrote countless articles, edited a newspaper, raised seven children, nursed elderly parents, and took in the needy all her life. Who could think this valiant woman would end her days unable to remember her own name?
Special needs are part of the journey. We don’t get to choose when they will arrive or how they will manifest. All we are in charge of is how we handle them – our own, and those of our fellow travelers. This year the Karuna Vihar calendar celebrates the journey. It’s a journey of discovery, of joy and of sorrow and we set out on it alone, yet mysteriously together, united by the road and our shared humanity.
And when we meet with the inevitable diversions, missed turns and unexpected scenic routes, let’s greet them for what they really are: tour guides from beyond, sent with directions, fuel and maps to that inclusive country for which we all yearn.
-–Jo Chopra
