For most people, parents or other elders are their secure-base. But for me, my children Utkarsh and Pratyush are the mainstays of my life, my secure bases.
I called Utkarsh my anchor. I still do. In his going [he died when he was 22], I lost my most trusted friend, philosopher and secure anchor. I felt totally disoriented, even as the business-as-usual responsibilities of life made me hide my pain under the mask of strength I put on every morning. Yet, those with a compassionate eye couldn’t miss the intense sorrow writ large on my whole being. I felt sucked into the dark bottomless well of pain and suffering. But I wasn’t able to help myself out of it despite my professional background as a grief and resilience specialist.
As if my grief was not tormenting enough, soon I suffered traumatic head injuries that triggered an extremely painful neurological condition. The prognosis indicated likelihood of neuropathy and progressively degenerative impact on my cognitive functioning. My already complex grief turned even more traumatic... But the Supreme Grace held my hand. It was a long and trying journey but I eventually returned home to myself. As I began affirming and healing my grief, and learnt to live with it, it started to feel like an existential co-pilgrim that nudged me towards deep growth. My appreciation for relationships, sense of compassion, gratefulness, meaning and purpose grew deeper.
Pratyush brought much calm and grace in our separate and shared grief journeys. It was his decision to take forward Utkarsh’s inclusive learning endeavour. Slowly our little outreach-libraries movement grew into a transcendent mission — Utkarsh’s legacy mission. Alongside, I was also engaged with awareness and sensitisation campaigns for organ-cornea-tissue donation. Nonetheless, a part of me remained restless. I began practising Vipassana meditation. True to its name, Vipassana helped me to see things as they truly were.
As I began exploring the depths of my pain, I could access my mind’s therapeutic capacity. Slowly I learnt to separate my pain, fear and anger from my sense of humanistic love and reverence for life. I took the path of forgiveness and meaning.
It helped me cleanse, heal and calm my inner turmoil.
...Although I have not been regular in my practice, a moment came when I began to understand my deeper call. I took a leap of faith and carved a new vision for what I was to be and do in life. I immersed myself in advanced studies, and re-purposed my professional practice to focus entirely on resilience, grief, post-traumatic growth and existential wellbeing domains. I also began devoting most of my time and energy to serve a forgotten section of society that Utkarsh strongly felt for — children from disadvantaged and vulnerable backgrounds. I also began extending (on gratis) my leadership and organisational development expertise for social change organisations.
As I imagined and pursued a new generative journey of meaning and mission, I didn’t realise when my grief began to create space for deep growth and existential grace. My writing gained greater depth. It feels humbling when people from all over the world write to share how they are finding solace, support, strength and meaningful guidance in my books and blog. I feel grateful for being able to companion people on their grief journeys, and help them regenerate deep resilience and wellbeing.
...The grief and trauma of childloss is shattering beyond imagination. That being said, grief is not an enemy. If anything, it is there to preserve love. My grief is a wise and compassionate companion that has opened for me a new expanse of growth, meaning and service.
Excerpted with permission from Neena Verma’s Rise: The Deep Resilience Way
published by Rupa