Peace at Last: 4.7.1951 to 14.2.2010

This Valentine’s Day marks three years since Fredy’s passing. That day is as clear as crystal in my mind - in one way it is hard to believe three years have gone already, in another it seems so long ago I wonder that it is just three short years.

All’s well in my world as I board my flight in Ho Chi Minh city. It is the Chinese New Year too and I superstitiously touch the lucky coin from last night’s party. I know Jill will be at Changi and am impatient to alight in Singapore. I am past immigration when I switch on my phone and see the numerous messages - that is when I know. I see Jill behind the glass door, hug her a minute later and tell her something terrible has happened. We don’t say much, head for the small cafe and she orders tea - we both know that tea is the panacea for all things and nothing is so bad that a cup of tea won’t make it better. Now, my cup grows cold as I make the dreaded calls. I’m grateful for Jill’s presence and blessed that our friendship lets us be our real selves. It crosses my mind that we have so often been together in life’s defining moments...
 

I learn that Fredy died that morning, while I was in the sky. Kartik is on his way from Mumbai and will drive to the hills directly, Shweta will come tonight, I must go tomorrow,  two brothers will go with us and so on. I call Bianca and forbid her to make the long journey back. It is an unreal flight to Delhi. My neighbour makes pleasant chitchat till I tell him matter-of-factly why I can’t engage in conversation, ‘there is a lot going on with me, I heard an hour ago that my husband passed away’.  He is shocked into silence, as if I’ve uttered an obscenity and the quiet drone of the engines forms the backdrop for my myriad thoughts. I feel resentment and anger at his wasted life. I feel sadness at the loss of what might have been. I feel anguish for my children who have lost their dad. Above all, my heart aches for all of us in this time of sorrow.
 

Those days live in my mind as a collage of images. I remember the grey dawn after a sleepless night, as we start the journey along an oft-traveled road. I will never forget the sight of Fredy in the wooden coffin,  lying still and peaceful in his favourite blue blazer with the brass buttons. I am grateful for Kartik and his strong arm about my shoulder, we are blessed to have these perfect children. As the lid is gently closed, we are painfully conscious that we’ll never see this face again. My mind now keeps just the happy memories, through the years I knew him and of all we shared – Fredy and I and Bianca and Kartik.

Special Friends

I’ll reconnect with several dear friends in the months ahead - after two or three or four years and even after five years! With all my friends I have a context that endures because it is built on the strong foundation of time spent together and experience shared, it has been tested by the ups and downs that beset relationships. The rapport with each individual  friend is painted in a different hue – ranging from carefree morning walks on green hills or happy laughter on sunny afternoons, to sober conversations during thoughtful evenings or dark nights of heart-stopping cinema noir. With each special friend I share a cache of carefully kept memories - a birthday card, a book gifted at Christmas, a music CD from a special day -  and of course the numerous images in my mind, clearer than any picture taken with a camera.  

It strikes me how unique each relationship is and how unlike every other, just as my friends are so frequently dissimilar from one another. Each liaison is a matchless bond with its own code and characteristics, where two people carry something precious and value what they have. If one ceases to carry it because it is not valuable enough, then it can hold no worth for the other, who drops it too. I think about how people shape their associations as well as each other, how one person is a certain way because of how the other is. Perhaps this is why when one of a couple dies, the other ceases to be the person he/she was with the one who's passed away and in effect two people are gone...  

This week’s connection is with a special friend that I have known for nearly 14 years.  It is wonderful to reminisce and speak of how our lives have changed – children grown up, settled, married; careers evolved or left behind; even life goals achieved. We once shared our New Year resolutions and policed each other, promising to be accountable. We spoke about the paths we wanted to follow and where we hoped they would take us. Now we laugh over a bottle of wine, smiling over past memories, impatient to hear stories from these recent years, sharing plans for the future. We know our framework is strong and our attachments will live as long as we do!   

Flying in St. Louis

Soon after I start living in St. Louis, I visit the History museum in Forest Park and am riveted by the story of Lindbergh – aviator,  inventor, explorer. I imagine him in his fragile airplane, all alone with the sea and sky for over 30 hours, as he crosses 3600 miles of Atlantic ocean. Was he afraid or exhilarated or focused or exhausted? How did he feel in the darkness of the night, flying over the sea? What was it like to see the sun rising before him? I try to understand his words: 'The life of an aviator seemed to me ideal. It involved skill. It brought adventure. It made use of the latest developments of science. Mechanical engineers were fettered to factories and drafting boards while pilots have the freedom of wind with the expanse of sky. There were times in an aeroplane when it seemed I had escaped mortality to look down on earth like a God.' – Charles A. Lindbergh, 1927

These thoughts rush though my mind, when Brian casually suggests, ‘We might fly after dinner, since the weather  is nice'. I can’t believe my ears and must seem like an idiot asking, ‘Fly? You mean in the sky?!’ Later that evening we pull up at the little airstrip, and step briefly into a small office to check on the wind and weather systems, before walking out to the small toy-like aircraft tied down at the edge of the tarmac. I look around me (and pinch myself to ensure I’m awake) as he methodically goes through a list to check things outside the plane. Then it’s time to climb inside and get strapped in, while he continues down the list of actions within the airplane. We are seated side by side, with a steering column each and a control panel in front of us. We wear headsets to communicate over the engine sound. My heart is thumping as I hear him speak with the control tower and receive permission to take off. My eyes close involuntarily as the plane rolls ever faster down the runway and there’s a hollow feeling in my middle as the wheels leave the ground.

 

I open my eyes to an incredible blue, just beyond the windshield in front of me. I can see the city laid out beneath us, slowly growing smaller. She makes a perfect picture with her familiar landmarks - Forest park, the cathedral, the down-town office towers and the unmistakeable Gateway Arch on the bank of the Mississippi. My headphones crackle, Brian is telling me I can steer in any direction I like! I see that we are steady at 3000 ft and turn the column left to follow the winding river Northwards. Soon the tension leaves my limbs, I take a deep breath and relax. It is indescribable to be so free and so unfettered, so far above the ground. Soon, the sun begins to set and lights come on in homes and on the highways. At least for the moment, it is easy to imagine one has ‘escaped mortality to look down on earth like a God’...