It’s stopped raining for the moment, but I thought I might be fighting a power outage to get this post up. It’s been thundering since yesterday and my last foray from the office to the Lama House left my shoes soaked through to pointlessness. I can’t help it; the storm makes me think of Shamarpa. Bringer of storms. Of sitting in the same place two months ago waiting for the electricity to come back so I could type up the last few menu plans in preparation for his arrival at Dhagpo. The anticipation, the anxiety, the joy. Gratitude.
I’m wearing the same dress today that I was wearing the day he died. I remember thinking through a tear-filled haze, “Why did I put on a black dress today? I didn’t mean to be in mourning.”
This time I chose it on purpose. There had been some pseudo-news trickling through the grapevine that today we’d find out with finality whether or not the cremation would be in Nepal or not. It felt like a tribute to wear this dress, though I was hoping for better news than last time. Of course, in reality, there was no news. Just the realization that even if I someday finish mourning Shamarpa’s physical death, I’m still going to spend my whole life mourning the daily death of all my expectations and desires. And it’s not a bad thing, just another habit to integrate.
Part of me thinks, “Maybe I should invest in some more black.” And part of me thinks, “If I’m going to spend my whole life in mourning, maybe I’ll give up black entirely. There’s no point in overdoing it.” And then the absurdity of this line of thought kicks in and I realize that philosophizing my fashion choices is just another way to express sadness. And whatever color I wear, life is still coming for me. Which makes it time to take all my melancholy and go work on the wedding cake I’ve got to make for 130 people before I leave town. Because learning to take care of here and now is what will carry me through all the rest.
**This post is part of a larger project culminating in a week of creative journalism in Kathmandu Valley, Nepal chronicling the cremation (possibly from afar) of the Tibetan spiritual master Shamar Rinpoche. To find out more or make a donation to this project, go here.