Today marks the one year anniversary of my beloved cousin’s sudden, tragic passing.
In one phone call, a giant wave of shock, disbelief, insurmountable pain and sorrow cruelly crashed into my life. The ripples still continue.
It’s hard to swallow the ugly truth that death guarantees life will never be the same again; that life is not what it is if we stay stagnant; if it doesn’t evolve or change.
I know my cousin would want me to carry on today like any other; to keep on moving.
She was never one to keep still herself.
Always traveling for work or for her church, she successfully kept up the demands of her family, patients, students and colleagues.
A gifted public speaker, she rarely declined an opportunity to lecture to a packed room of eager students, or stand in front of the pulpit for her local congregation and proclaim her God’s love.
Her often hoarse voice was simply an indication of how content she was in her own life’s purpose, how much she loved being around people.
In an already crazy crowded city like Jakarta, the neighbouring streets to her family home were blocked off to control the traffic congestion, to manage the constant flow of guests coming over to pay their last respects at her funeral.
People, just keep on moving.
While I need to find something to mark this day, I know Kak Rytha wouldn’t want me spend it by keeping still in sadness.
Maybe I’ll do a run; go somewhere special to eat (she loved to eat and we spent our last hour together gorging our faces).
Perhaps, a swim like the few times we went together.
Whatever it be, I’m adamant she would want me to celebrate her life, not mourn her death.
She’d want me to keep on moving.