Thurs. Dec. 27/07 - Toronto, Ontario
My sister had married into the Armenian community. The funeral of her husband was held at St. Mary’s church on Victoria Park Avenue. The priests of this Orthodox church were kind and seated me on one of their Vyasasanas, a special seating area reserved for clergy. The service was powerful followed by the burial in a nearby cemetery. Hundreds came in their mourning black attire as all were set against pure white snow. This was a black and white film with true drama.
The dominant gesture was hugging and holding as tears ran down cheeks. Stalwart students of this heroic soccer coach could not hold back emotions what to speak of immediate family. Someone with a vile mind had knocked down this Mr. Optimism in a cowardly way with a gun to his head. In all this horror and grimness my angelic sister very much held her composure despite all the internal and utter pain. She was Mrs. Courageous.
I reminded her that the spirit is not slain. It goes on living and improving itself.
The casket lowered. The sudden death that shocked a sector of the earth leaves behind it a trial of questions- “who?’ “Why?” and “What now?”
The sacred Gita informs us that the intricacies of karma are difficult to understand.
1km.
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