Intermission

 “We expect such people to be around.” 

Those were the succinct words of a friend when I shared how tough it was to swallow the untimely, premature passing on of my Aunt.  That pithy response summarized what I had been struggling to verbalize.  It made me dwell on the rather uncomfortable idea of mortality.  As I clawed my way back from a rather downbeat state of mind, the fact that I am 42 and ‘middle aged’ made me feel more introspective and less anxious.  Arguably a result of my being an Indian movie buff, my thoughts centered on the notion of interval - or its slightly more sophisticated-sounding synonym, intermission.

I began to think less about the longevity of my journey or that of my near and dear.  Instead, I began to reflect on, in movie parlance again, the ‘first half’ of my life.  This blog post is too limited and too public a platform for me to compile all the highs and lows of the life that I have lived till now.  But there is one recurring theme in my life that I wish to shed light on.  And that is a sense of belonging. 

To look one in the eye and make them feel like they matter is a trait in people that I am truly grateful for.  As I think of the closest members in my family, the most respected mentors in my life (both personal and professional), the dearest friends who are a family of their own, one common trait that I observe is that they know exactly how and when to give me a sense that I matter.  Whenever I crumble, they don’t piece me together.  Instead, they stand by me, empowering me to stitch myself again. They are the ones that let my stream of tears flow while being acutely aware that the handful of droplets are actually symptomatic of a flood of emotion that they are refusing to let me get submerged in.  That the apparent weightlessness of the tears is inversely proportional to the weight of emotion that is being lifted off me. They are the ones that celebrate my successes in a way where I know that their appreciation is genuine, sans jealousy or resentment.  They are the ones that proffer sincere, timely advice whenever I err, constantly looking to make me strive to be the best version of myself.  

As heady as I feel about all these wonderful folks, I am readily aware that what I just captured is just about receiving.  Receiving love, receiving concern, receiving advice.  As I look at the 'first half' in an honest manner, I feel like I have received more than I have given.  No, that is not a falsely modest statement, I assure you.  I sincerely feel like the second half of my life should be about fostering a sense of belonging.  Enabling people like I was empowered in the first half.  Loving people in the selfless, giving ways in which I was and am loved.  Sharing perspectives with people in a manner where they feel like I am sitting beside them, not preaching from a lofty pedestal.

As I think about genuine, selfless people like my Aunt who are no more, I realize that they are still “around” even after they are gone.  That is their legacy.  In the second half of my life, I would like to ensure that I give my loved ones the feeling that I am always “around”, enveloping them in the warm manner in which I have been protected all along.  That way, the ‘reviewer’ - be it God or one’s own conscience - looks at the picture and gives a verdict that both halves were coherent, feel-good and meaningful!