Fragile Lives

When faced with adversity, dealing with circumstances beyond our control, when we are nothing but anxious spectators of some unfolding misery, we tend to seek comfort from unexpected sources. I am going through such a phase, as I deal with a loved one’s illness, waiting anxiously by the phone, having to comfort and re-assure others when I feel so drained myself. Sleep has eluded me too. I look for comfort in little things, anything to engage and distract my mind. The news of a miniscule sign of improvement, the mere opening of eyes, offers solace. Recollections of a certain person bring micro-moments of love into my life, transcending grief; tumbling forth like wild and rampant waves. Books fail to engage me now. I walk. I work. I shut my eyes and tune into every sound I can hear, neatly arranging them in my mind, and realizing how silence is a fallacy. Everything is moving, all the time. I have this sudden urge to feel alive, because it is such a precarious thing, this life, who can predict when it would slip away. I sound morbid, but when I see a loved one wither away, I feel more aware of my hands that work, feet that walk, eyes that can see, mind that thinks and loves; in a twisted irony, I am more aware of being alive. And I want to make each moment count; moments filled with love, laughter and hope.

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