Eternal Rest and The Monsoon

I didn't have to work today, the consequence of the annual monsoon taking on the proportions of a national tragedy. I'm old enough to recall that the monsoon season used to be an annual blessing, awaited to provide a respite from summer's scorching heat, and the promise of bountiful harvests for farmers. Now it's more of a curse, bringing with it relentless rains, floods, destruction, and death. Mother Nature is striking back, I think, after decades of Man abusing and neglecting her. And her fury cannot be restrained or contained.


My father-in-law, now a widower, is again experiencing the attendant inconveniences of a house submerged in flood. He is now temporarily displaced, staying with one of his daughters who lives nearby. The last time something like this happened was two years ago, when his wife was still alive and seemingly well. They went through the inconveniences together. I can't help but ponder on what could be going on in my father-in-law's mind, now that his wife of more than 50 years is gone, and he has to go through life's difficulties alone. My own father's situation is no different. He now has to go through life alone, without my mom's reassuring presence. These are two courageous men, able to move on despite their irreplaceable losses. I'm not certain if I'm made of the same strong material as these two. I could be. But they were soldiers of their time: My father-in-law was an officer in the Reserve, while my father was an Air Force jock. They're old school, born before the last world war; witnesses to human suffering, and the slow,, painful progression of life from the ashes. Underneath their strong, willful personalities is a rare gentleness they shower upon those whom they love. And in dealing with others they observe the tenets of fairness and unassailable integrity. They stock up on riches not of this world.


I, on the other hand, was born during a time of great optimism, strong purchasing power, and relative ease. My generation saw the rise of the service industry, essentially people doing things for other people, things too mundane or monotonous or messy. I never learned, and will never learn, to slaughter a live chicken for the dinner table, a commonplace skill of my two fathers. I am a spoiled brat compared to them.


The present-day curse of the monsoon, and life's other difficulties and uncertainties, are among the best reasons why I look forward to my "graduation," the term I use to refer to death. While most people view the subject of death as unsettling and unpleasant, and therefore a topic to be skirted in discussion, I look at it as an option to and a liberation from life's triteness. I've never entertained the thought of staying around for a very long time. There isn't sufficient happiness to go around here. Perhaps it abounds somewhere else.