We were late to church today, but thankfully, we didn’t miss the sermon. And I’m so glad we didn’t.
The entire message was about how man proposes, but what if you were to die today? And if you ever need a change in perspective, perhaps you should visit Vellore CMC or the Cancer Hospital in TVM.
And who better to understand that perspective than me?
I’ve visited both these hospitals multiple times with Papa when I was in college, barely 20 years old myself. Believe me, nothing humbles you quite like a hospital, especially a cancer ward. You see people fighting battles you can barely imagine, families clinging to hope, and lives hanging in the balance. You walk in with your own worries and walk out realising just how little control we have over life. It makes you question what we spend our time worrying about, what we chase, and what we take for granted.
Because the truth is, we make plans as though we have all the time in the world. But none of us really knows how much time we have.
And then there’s this picture.
This is Sivadas Chettan, Mom’s trusted confidante and right-hand man. He was someone she could always count on. All she had to do was call him, and he would make sure everything was brought home. Years of friendship and trust had built a bond that needed very few words.
Even when Mom could no longer call him or speak to him, he continued to visit her. Think about that for a moment. When she could no longer ask for his time or tell him she needed him, he still showed up. That kind of friendship is rare. And that kind of love speaks volumes, even in silence.
The day after Mom’s funeral was my niece’s wedding. Freddy and the girls had left for the wedding the previous night, while I stayed back to attend the church service before making my way there. I was planning to catch a taxi.
And then came my cousin, who has always had this way of looking out for me, whether I ask him to or not! Apparently, there were no taxis at the stand where he trusted the drivers, and in his books, that simply wouldn’t do. So, I was told to wait. You see, some people show their love by saying the right things. Others do it by making sure you get where you need to go safely, even if it means rearranging your plans. My cousin has always been one of those people. And me being me, I eventually said, “Fine, Sivadas Chettan can take me.”
And that’s how I ended up travelling 20 kilometres in his rickshaw, all dressed up for a wedding, talking to him about Mom. Picture that. Me, dressed to the nines for a wedding, arriving at the venue in a humble rickshaw, amidst a flurry of luxury cars! But you know what? I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Because for those 20 kilometres, it wasn’t about the wedding, the fancy cars, or what anyone might think when I arrived. It was about Mom. It was about remembering her, talking about her, and holding on to the little pieces of her that still live on in the people who loved her. And somewhere along that journey, there was a strange kind of comfort in being with someone who had known her, cared for her, and continued to show up for her even when she could no longer ask him to.
Mom would have been happy. And I certainly was.
Perhaps that’s what grief does to you. It slowly teaches you that the things that matter most are rarely the things we spend our lives chasing. It’s not the luxury cars we arrive in or the grand plans we make. It’s the people who stand by us, the friendships that endure, and the love that continues to find its way to us, even after someone is gone.
We spend so much of our lives making plans for tomorrow, forgetting that tomorrow is never promised.
And sometimes, life reminds us of this in the most unexpected ways. Through a sermon we almost missed. Through memories of hospital corridors that changed our perspective when we were barely 20. Through a man who loved and respected our mother enough to keep visiting her when she could no longer call his name. And through a 20-kilometre rickshaw ride that became so much more than just a way to get to a wedding.
We may not get to choose how much time we have with the people we love. But we are so fortunate when we get to witness the love they leave behind.
Man proposes, but life is uncertain.
So love deeply, cherish the people who show up, and never underestimate the beauty of a bond built over years. Because long after the plans have changed and the celebrations are over, it is the love we leave behind that continues to matter.
