Being in the moment

 It was N's 16th birthday. Her special milestone day in her absence. She died in 2017, just after her 9th birthday.

Usually when they turn sweet 16, they have special plans on how they would like to celebrate this milestone birthday and parents usually just have to provide for the budgets and logistics of their requests. In my case, she wasn't there and I was conflicted on what I must do.

Over the years, I had done charity events, public awareness drives and competitions in her memory. This year, I felt emotionally fatigued and at a loss of energy to plan and execute anything grand. My heart yearned for something simple, thoughtful and quiet. So after much deliberation and thanks to my sisters, we decided to do just that - a simple, quiet family get together.

It was perfect, I thought. She would have loved to spend this day with her family for the first time. All her birthdays during her lifetime, she kept hoping to spend with her family but it sadly never happened. 

The day came and both my sisters made it to my home. The plan was to enjoy a lunch together and then cut the cake later with a couple of dear friends. I and my sisters decorated the home with streamers, dedication wall and flowers - perfect, I thought.

Lunch concluded. Cake cutting concluded followed by a round of games and happy banter. But something was missing I felt. 

What was it? 

The very person we were meant to remember through the day, nobody mentioned her at all. Nobody raised a toast to her, or spoke about her. People sang happy bday and that was it. A ritual of a birthday, and that is that.

I woke up next day feeling tired but went through the day - had booked it off so I could spend the day with my family some more. We did a little picnic, had breakfast, lunch and then tea. And then one of my sisters left. We slept.

At night, just as I shut my eyes, I felt tiny hands hold my index finger, wrapping around it real tight. I woke up with a start as this is exactly what my daughter would do and inch closer to give me a big hug, putting her arms around my neck. I woke up and looked at this angelic face of my toddler niece. It was our sleeping arrangement for the night to be next to her and her mom. I found myself crying and tears rolled down my cheeks. I felt physical pain and gasped for fresh air. But I lay there, crying myself into sleep eventually. 

Next morning, I woke up with a heavy head and with tiredness. I was feeling emotionally much lower as it was today that the rest of my family would depart, leaving behind an empty home.

I felt as if despite the effort everyone put in, the basic sensitivity of a remembrance was nearly absent! 

So I made a mental note based on this very valuable lesson I learnt:

Next time, I will be a part of such a commemoration or celebration, it is so important to remind ourselves of the essence of that particular event - why are we doing what we are doing? And therefore, what would make sense to bring into that moment - would it help to have a few anecdotes about that person? Any conversation about that moment, that will make those at the centre of the celebration, feel special?