Since 2010, I committed to heal my self to overcome the inner barriers that are hindering my path. I am not yet done and each day, I uncover one new barrier.
January 2017, these heart whispers poured through me, my fingers flowed on my keyboard, in front of my laptop screen, my entire body was shaking with tears and hurt from missing and healing from gratitude.
Yesterday one of my closest, reminded me of when the article, "I write as an act of re-membering HIM, ME and all those connected to US" was published and today, my heart whispered to share same with you because I believe stories carry the potentials to heal the keeper and the world.
I read my words one more time and this while it feels a deep trail of deepening love with the knowingness that we can all heal and shift our stories by choosing to open up.
May my story serve the purpose of healing my self and beyond.
Love Light Vibes
Megha
I write as an act of re-membering HIM, ME and all those connected to US.
My father was not just a man, He was one of his kind; a mind of his own, a depth that none could understand. Someone from whom I have learned the love for words. This very love I kept running away for years.
To have had him as genitor was no and is no easy legacy, he was not just intelligent, striking, crazily weird but he had his darkest side - a side which me and my sibblings saw.
And to be called his physical carbon copy was no easy weight for me to carry. A resemblance that made sick for years even after his death.
He has been one of the most shifting journalists Mauritius has had. He has had his glory days and his doomed days. And our family doomed along with him, deep in his oceans of Rhum. And it went for years till 19th January 2003 on the eve of his 48th Birthday.
Death does not heal wounds and death does not bring answers to endless questions a child’s heart can carry. So his death never brought justice to neither me nor my sibblings.
When he was here, I would run away from this legacy that this whole world was trying to throw on me and when he passed away, I speeded my pace away from all that could ever have been HIM.
And for eight years, I would numb every single memory of HIM ensuring that no one could ever remind me of who my father was. I was not a bad person and I am still not a bad person but I was simply fighting my way through that which was paining me for years.
And as I reached my 27th birthday, everything shifted, my whole life crumbled down and within that space, I made the choice to look at that which was killing me slowly. And out of this phase, came life’s shifting questions “Who am I? What ignite me from within? What is it that makes me soar?
There he came shyly, Koomara Venketasamy, he took his time and he stepped into my space again. This while he waited till I was ready to look, till I was ready to listen, till I was ready connect.
And from there on, it took me three years to mourn his death. From then on, the words started flowing.
He came to bestow me with one of my gifts – the power through words.
Today, I write because that’s part of my legacy.
I write because this is what HE taught me; this is what HIS storms roared to me; this is what HIS eyes whispered to me.
I write to honor this legacy that I have despised for years.
I write as an act of re-membering HIM, ME and all those connected to US.
I write because my heart knows no other ways to sing.
I write because I have learned that there is tremendous healing in words
I write because deep within I know that the world’s magic lies within words
I write because I cannot do otherwise
I write because this is my way of letting HIM know that “I am growing more and more into ME and I will never give up on ME.”
Grieving does not happen overnight and it takes the time it takes. It takes years and lives. It is very challenging to mourn death of close ones and it is no easy task to embrace legacies coming from them. I know no easy pathway to this but right now, at this very instance, I know that the legacies carry wisdom. I know we are the Guardians of the Wisdom to be handed over to the next generation of Magic Weavers.
Post © Megha Venketasamy, 2018. All rights reserved.
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