I’ve got to learn to trust the process

It was difficult to breathe with this heaviness, when sighs are not far apart, labored. Our hearts were heavy, like damp cement clumps drying out in the sun would be, I’d imagine. A death of someone’s child, even if we weren’t so affectionately close to, will always be an extremely sad experience. We tried to console ourselves more, by consoling the parents anyway way possible, without barging into their very personal grieving spaces. A silent personal prayer, a short message, or just joining in a group Zoom call where our presence was seen, if not felt.

Deep profound grief can drive many of us closer to the edge, perhaps ultimately leading to utter depression and suicide, especially if we don’t allow enough time to heal. And sometimes, a lifetime may not be enough. At tough times like this, it is typical of us to imagine ourselves in their places, trying to experience the ‘What if it was me or my child?’ question in our heads rather superficially, knowing so well we wouldn’t be anywhere close to that heart wrenching torture the ones actually grieving are going through.

I had wondered if such a profound experience would push me further from my faith, questioning if the usefulness of my prayers all these years would finally betray me the benefits I had believed to be inevitably coming from these prayers. Like some barter system, my prayers and my faith given would protect me and my family from any harm. This, I have been telling myself even if I don’t want to admit it.

The parents have been dedicating to their Sikh path all their lives, imbuing fundamental principles within their children. Beyond the initial shock, I had imagined that the family struggled tremendously to accept the demise of their son and brother. But before we knew it, they picked themselves up using their prayers and the teachings of their Guru, as if reaching out to a floating vessel in the turbulent seas. It seemed that it was protecting them from the emotional storm of turmoil swirling around them.

Instead of being pushed away like I had imagined myself in this situation, they grew stronger together attaching themselves more to their prayers and their beliefs. It kept them calm. It made them accept the inevitable. It allowed time to heal them faster. I’m sure they’re still in that storm, but their vessel isn’t falling apart, rather it’s fixing itself, even upgrading as the day goes by.

When we witnessed this with our own eyes, that heavy feeling our hearts felt became lighter. We could breathe again.

And then I realized, that I’ve got to learn to trust the process. Trust that the faith I have, and the prayers that I know, will help. Instead of allowing myself to be pushed away from my faith, this episode taught me to pull myself to my faith even closer. Hold on to it like any drowning person would to any vessel afloat.

Everybody has every right to question her faith. We are, after all, but only human. But we should also trust that our faith can help us in dire times. It’s better than not having something to cling to, in the middle of the storm.

Jagdesh Singh, a Kuala Lumpur-based executive with a US multinational company, is a father of three girls who are as opinionated as their mother

* This is the opinion of the writer, organisation or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of Asia Samachar.

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