#10 - 5 tips for a healthy heart

5 tips for a healthy heart

It was her heart that finally did her in

Just like that, one July evening,

It just stopped beating.

How could it happen like this?

It didn’t make any sense at all

She was in a hospital with

every doctor, every device at her call.

She had the checkups,

the measured, low sodium diet

Pills of all sizes from morning to night.

Then how come her heart never did heal

From the fears, the disappointments

No medical specialist could reveal.

In the days, weeks, months

of dealing with the aftermath

I didn’t even know where to start

To mend my own broken heart.

And through days of endless tears

And nights of deep despair,

And rants at a life that seemed so unfair

The light slowly but surely did seep in

Through my wounds, and my heart began to heal

My grief taught me precious lessons,

though they came at a great cost,

I learnt to make a new start,

even when all seemed lost.

And yet, ever so once in a while, I do wish

If together we had another shot at this

I would lean across the table and hold her hand

And say for you to have a healthy heart, here’s the plan:

1) Deep in your heart, know that you are enough

2) Go ahead, show you vulnerability – stop being all tough

3) Let go of the past – it’s not worth your time

4) Play hard and 5) love harder 

And you’ll be fine.

Remembering Mom

Grief on some days flows like a quiet, rippling stream
On other days like thunderous waves, crashing around,
But it hardly matters if the approach is gentle or wild, It always ends up eroding the very grounds
On which I try hard to anchor with the busyness of everyday life

Grief ruthlessly cuts through any activity, speech or thoughts
And in that moment, sweeps me right off my feet
Leaving me either overwhelmed or so numb and still
That I am not even sure if I can breathe.
And I am mostly left in a crumble that seems so hard to smoothen.

I am yet to get to a place when I can foresee moments,
when this grief will overcome me, though I have tried.
I would run out of metaphors to explain
The countless ways in which the memories hide,
And unpredictably peep out, leak, spring out of things.

A phone call, lavender soap, a half completed sweater,
Medicine strips, Yardley powder, R K Laxman books
The sari bags tucked away in a wardrobe I hardly open,
Red bindis, cloves, dishes she loved to cook,
I thought decluttering, packing up and moving will help.
It didn’t.

I know I need to give into the flow of this grief,
For in the pain lies the hope that in some way,
It will also sweep away the guilt, the regret, the loss I carry
Behind the semblance of normalcy I put up every day.

And though it seems like grief is winning every single encounter.
I know there will be a time when grief knocks me down,
Yet I will get right up, and win that game fair and square,

And I will remember to breathe again and not think
Of what could have been, but be grateful for what was there.

And then I know I will finally be ready to look up at the night skies,
Past my own need to hear her voice once again
Past the mom-shaped hole she left in my world.
And see her – no longer a diabetic, a wife or even a mom,
But simply her daddy’s little girl,
Walking hand in hand with him, finding peace at last.