Today it is exactly six weeks since my grandfather’s passed away. In the meantime literally everything has changed. It’s been a week and a half since I last visited his grave and now I’m living almost a thousand kilometres away, with a new life, new friends and new hope. I’m savouring this silence under the sea of serenity, feeling an ease of mind that almost gives me a guilty conscience: after all, social norms require me to mourn now that my grandfather’s commemoration is approaching, even if I can’t be at it. To be honest, I really did not even want to go to his funeral, not because I didn’t want to feel the pain, but because I had already said goodbye to him on his deathbed and going to his funeral would only have meant repeating something which by no means can be repeated: saying goodbye to a dead person. But as with many things, society would never be able to understand such a thought and so I went, only because I felt forced to. Except for the day my grandfather passed away I haven’t felt any grief though, what made me cry later on during the remembrance ceremony was empathy, the tears shed by my near relatives; too loud still re-echoes one of my grandfathers last sentences: take as much along as you can.
There is a wisdom in that sentence which many wise men have already discerned before, and I too always knew that you should seize the day – not least owing to good friends who kept telling me this when I had yet another emotional down – but I never wanted to or maybe even was unable to accept it. Perhaps I go with the Mexican Dia de los Muertos, where the dead are venerated rather than bemoaned or feared. Life as a process – splendiferous gratefulness to have had the incredible chance of knowing this wonderful person is imbuing me as his remembrance permeates my life – is that the answer?
Sometimes I ask myself if I am not pushing his death at the back of my mind, walking through his house made me feel uncomfortable and I didn’t dare sitting at his side of the couch, but then again I have no problems writing about him being dead or speaking about it. Somehow I feel like owing to my grandfather to finally start feeling happy instead of drowning myself in a pool of misery and self-pity. Why not buy someone beloved a present, just because? Why not embrace the feeling of love instead of feeling miserable for still being able to feel happiness? Why not tell everyone who’s important how much she or he matters?
I have finally come to understand that there are so many wonderful people and things around me that the things which made me feel miserable before should carry no weight, the only thing they did, really, was to keep me from appreciating what I have. Rejoying somebody with a small present or just walking through life with a smile on my face is having a more positive effect on my life than I ever thought it could have. Perhaps I’m deeply in love. In love with life and therefore every aspect of it. Isn’t life a great thing to have?
Yes, it is sad it took a death to make me realise this, but I rather see it as a last valuable lesson my grandfather taught me before passing to the hereafter and for that I’m extremely thankful. Life is not aiming for death, this is merely a necessary constant to make us move forward, and in the end, really, moving forward to find happiness is the goal of existence. And I will never forget that it was my grandfather who showed me the right direction to this goal.