Today’s cherishable sad and sweet memories are the times Manjula and I spent together.
Here
The writer Didion coined the term ‘vortex’ in her book ‘a year of magical thinking’ about the year after her husband died.
It helpfully describes when one is ambushed by trigger memories of good times spent together.
But I wasn’t ambushed, as I fully expected it.
These are sad and tearful yet happy treasured moments in central London. I know it so well yet it now has an other dimension.
I have swam in it, swallowed it, fought it, opened my arms to it, shrivelled from it, tolerated it, hated it,.. It’s hit me like a personal tsunami, been wishy washy, sticky beyond treacle, invaded my brain to make it fuzzy and cracked open my tentative comfort zones. I know it’s a lifelong friend I have to accept it. It’s equal with and probably surpasses the combined effect of all the worse times in my life and for the first time uncovered real solid regrets.
It’s a gravy train that doesn’t bring benefits or maybe it does.
My heart was broken by losing Manjula, I covered it up and held it close but now I’m beginning to feel able to open my heart again. So there are positives to discover and learning to reveal.
I now love Manjula even more and in ways that I couldn’t imagine. I’m tentatively beginning to be kind to myself.
Part two of this series of postings is the heart
Thank you for your support during this horrendous journey.
I love you Manjula
For almost 2 1/2 years I’ve received daily iPhone notifications —like the one below —reminding me to switch the water on and off. This is to pump water from the sump to the header tank and for the house to not run dry (a common system where we live). The messages were set up by Tom after we realised I needed a reminder. Without Manjula’s physical presence in the house it wouldn’t get done.
MAnjula collected coins in a make up bag. Each morning I take out ten rupees for my morning tea break while walking with Lucie. Thanks Manj.
Lucie waits patiently at the top of the stairs for me to go backwards and forwards getting ready to walk. At the last moment she peers in manjulas library as a reminder to check that I’ve bolted the balcony door.
I look in and smile at two of the many portraits of Manjula that fill the house.
Occasionally placing a T light in this wonderful engagement present brought all the way from Australia
All pieces of the jigsaw of our life. The missing pieces’ essence is present in every one of them.
I’ve chosen to deal with my grief companion head-on. Others will do it differently. Who knows what’s the best way, our experiences are completely individual. The pain is there, whatever but I try to minimise the suffering.
I share Manjula’s story wherever and whenever I can. In the dentists waiting room, even the treatment chair, during the morning tea break, handing out cards inviting people to appreciate our garden.
It’s important to me.
She probably thinks I’m ridiculous. 🤭
Last night was my second appearance at an open mic. MAnjula did get a mention (that’s the point) it was three intertwined love stories. But I ran out of time. The story of my life. If reincarnation and reconnecting souls is true, maybe I’ll have more time with Manjula’s sweet kind soul.
and a Sun with a beard
with thanks to Desai Somesh, Rita’s dad who took the photographs.
With friends (where are the women?) photo album, portrait, garden and cut out board.
Thank you to Karan, Anjali and with help from Aaditya and other students at CAVA Art College.
Did you spot the two women? Our commemoration will continue and more will visit this week.
Today Manjula would have been 48 and it’s yet another reason to celebrate and thank her for the time we were together (we still are).
Manjula sent messages with her love and for me to know all is well on her soul’s journey to her new life. She’s most definitely not a ‘hungry ghost’.
Here’s a video message from my love. Previously we’ve also heard from her via messengers
We’ve done a few things that Manjula would like and maybe make her giggle. Like the remembering garden. we’ve just planted in the park opposite our house.
She’s left audio and video recordings which I’m using to help write our story. We’ll release some of the videos in 2022
So what’s a hungry ghost? One of the tales that will be featured in our story, to be published before we reach what would have been her 50th birthday.
Creating a garden for MAnjula
There’s been two sorts of reactions to the garden which might provide some insights into people’s view of life, more later.
My friend Zetta posted about a funeral today Where they played: How long will I love you? Sung by Ellie Goulding. So I listened to it
Today, before a small piano concert at a friends house here in Mysore I was introducing Manjula to a few more people.
Yes, I’ll introduce Manjula anywhere and everywhere. I was talking about the new garden we were creating to help celebrate her.
I explained that it’s over two years ago that she died, sometimes that feels a long time ago, others as if it was yesterday.
I know there is no limit to my unconditional everlasting love and liked the song.
…
How long will I love you?
As long as stars are above you
And longer if I can
How long will I need you?
As long as the seasons need to
Follow their plan
How long will I be with you?
As long as the sea is bound to
Wash up on the sand
How long will I want you?
As long as you want me to
And longer by far
How long will I hold you?
As long as your father told you
As long as you can
How long will I give to you?
As long as I live through you
However long you say
How long will I love you?
As long as stars are above you
And longer if I may
How long will I love you?
As long as stars are above you
Yes, it’s forever, in this life and any others. 🌞
Exactly two years ago I appealed for Cinderella.
Manjula had some beautiful shoes but her feet were so tiny finding someone they would fit was a real challenge.
Well I’ve found another Cinderella, or at least a lovely young woman who also has teeny feet.
It’s so fitting (ha ha) that the artist who has connected so well with MAnjula and now painted two beautiful portraits should be the one to take her shoes.
I’m so pleased to find this happy solution.
Farrell Factoid
It’s taken two years as most Indian women don’t have such teeny feet.
My feet are also quite small at six and a half, not that anyone has ever offered me small shoes. 🤭
Me and MYCycle 