Usha Jesudasan, author of self-help books, writes how the sudden loss of loved ones in the second wave of the pandemic shut her down completely, till the enduring light and beauty of the moon instilled hope. Read to push back Covid gloom.
This time last year, the pandemic was new to us. We faced a strict lockdown suddenly. We saw visuals of poor migrant labourers walking back to their homes carrying all their belongings in plastic bags or baskets on their heads. Our caregivers at home stopped coming and we experienced a new way of living. Schools were closed, locking our children in their homes. But we lived in hope. The pandemic will end. Our lives would get back to normal.
हिंदी में पढ़ें: चाँद को निहारने से मिला कोविड पैन्डेमिक में सुकून
The beginning of this year 2021 saw us getting back to some kind of normal life. The new vaccines against Covid 19 became available to us and we breathed a sigh of relief. I joined close friends for pot luck lunches and dinners. I even wore a lovely sari to celebrate my going out for the first time. How wonderful it was to be together again.
Overwhelming loss
But then the virus hit us again - quite suddenly. I lost close friends, family and neighbours. The impact of sudden loss of loved ones shut me down completely for a few days. Life had to go on, I had a little granddaughter at home, family still had to be fed and cared for, shopping lists made - but within me my heart ached. For the first time in my life, I couldn’t write. I couldn’t even cook. I stood there looking at a pan wondering, ‘What did I put in it?’ I stood under the shower and after a few minutes thought, ‘Did I shampoo my hair?’ Well I did it just in case I hadn’t. My daughter was really alarmed when I asked her, ‘What did we have for dinner last night? ’ I just couldn’t remember. Numbness took over where there was always some hope.
Both my sons work on the Covid 19 front line – one in a large private hospital and one in a Christian Mission Hospital. My older son called me every day, his voice tired and heavy with sadness as he told me of the loss of so many of his patients. Panic had replaced hope.
I carried the fear and feeling of helplessness from the minute I woke up. I stopped seeing my messages. I couldn’t bear to hear of one more loss. But I did. And this was the one that hit me the hardest – the suicide of the young man selling tender coconuts at the end of my road. He could not bear the thought of life after his young wife died of this terrible disease. My heart ached for the little girls who had lost both parents.
Turning point
As always, I sat on my doorstep in the cool of the summer evening listening to the sound of birds and the wind rustling. Still heavy hearted. There was a message from my son, ‘Go and look at the moon Amma.’ I was stunned. In the middle of so much loss, and the grief that a doctor experiences when confronted with death so many times in a day, and a long day in a smothering PPE, he still had time to look at the moon. If he had not lost hope in life, how could I? That was the turning point. My daughter took me for a long drive and there in front of us was a huge rising pinkish moon just over the dark shadows of the mountains. That first sight of it made me hold my breath. I’m not a crying person, but tears began to flow and I took deep breaths. It wasn’t just the beauty of the moon, but the slow realization that this moon had seen so many pandemics. So many wars, so many people mourning their loved ones asking…Why? An ever silent observer to so much human suffering. And yet, here it was shedding light and beauty in my very dark world. A line from the poet Walt Whitman came to mind. “It is not upon you alone the dark patches fall, the dark threw its patches down upon me also.”
I had allowed the pandemic to take over my mind, making me feel helpless in my panic and fear. That beautiful moon made me realize that panic should give way to gratefulness. My sons were alive and working in a dangerous world, but caring for and being compassionate to those who were made vulnerable through sickness. Should I not be grateful for them? I went through the list of counting my blessings. And thanking the moon for bringing me back to a place of thankfulness and hope. I came home and read through a prayer written by American theologian Reinhold Niebuhr that has often brought me hope.
God, give me grace to accept with serenity
the things that cannot be changed,
Courage to change the things
which should be changed,
and the Wisdom to distinguish
the one from the other.
Living one day at a time,
Enjoying one moment at a time,
Accepting hardship as a pathway to peace…
There was much I could not change. Much that just had to be accepted. And much that I could change. I talked to my friends more often, shared pictures of my family, swapped recipes and jokes. Yes, I know that this has been a brutal time for all of us, but the art to living life is as I have always believed looking out and not looking in with self pity. While seeing the chaos around our neighbourhood I choose to also see snapshots of hope that bring peace - my kind retired teacher neighbor who teaches his students giving extra help to those who need it while schools are closed; the man who picks up my garbage offers to get me milk and essentials and waives away the money I give offer him: the newspaper delivery man wearing gloves and thus not be overwhelmed by negativity.
Usha Jesudasan is a freelance writer who writes about life, values and harmony. She has authored many self-help and inspirational books some of which include – I will Lie Down in Peace, Two Journeys, Healing as Empowerment: Discovering Grace in Community.
