Reaching out in pain

I hate when I get a long distance call from Kolkata in the middle of the day. That can only mean one thing. BAD NEWS. When the phone rang this afternoon, I was sipping my afternoon cup of coffee trying to get some work done. I looked at my caller id which said "Daddy" and I immediately knew there was some bad news. It was my Dad calling to tell me that one of my uncles had passed away.

"Bhalo Jethu", that is what we all called him, meaning "good uncle" (bhalo= good, jethu= father's elder brother). The name embodied the person. He was one of the sweetest, most affectionate, full of life uncles I had, who was always smiling, always helping people. I remember he would always give me a big hug everytime I visited them. And he would have such entertaining tales to amuse you. The last time I saw him was when I got married six years back. I knew he was not doing very well physically and that his health had broken down over the last couple of years. But the news of him passing away strikes a raw chord nevertheless.

My Dad was especially close to Bhalo Jethu. The fact that he had rushed over to Bhalo Jethu's house on hearing the news and amidst all the people and activity he wanted to call me and talk to me tells me how badly he was hurting. He was there, but he did not know what was expected of him. What does one do in such a situation? Comfort the family, deal with one's own pain, makes arrangements for the last rites? I guess one is too numb to deal with any of that and in all confusion reaches out for some solace in something, anything. My dad called me. He knew that I would like to know. He knew that I would be checking my email in the afternoon looking for the daily email from him and wondering why it was not there. He wanted to share the pain and the sorrow. And in reaching out, may be, just may be, he cried unshed tears and found an answer to his pain.

Life will go on.....and I will add another name to the list of people whom I will never meet again in this lifetime.