Yesterday my dad’s eldest sister died. In India. Big Pisima, as she was affectionately known as, meaning oldest sister… was maybe 82 years old. I remember the ache in my heart as I met her for the first time in my adult years. I felt like a piece of me was left in India where half my family still lives. I wish I had really known her. I wish that my uncles and aunties there were part of my world as I know it.
(My Auntie, my youngest brother, Kumar and myself… January 2012 in India)
I had breakfast with my mom today, before she heads back to Maryland. She was telling me that Big Pisima was married around the age of 15 years and a widow with two little girls by 24 years old. Can you imagine the stories that she could have told? I wonder of her life from the age of 24 – 80. Her two daughters are fabulous and are a testament of her character and life. My mom tells me she was just beautiful, inside and out.
I loved that when I saw her again, after 30+ years, she knew who I was immediately. Beautiful. I was moved to tears as her message into our camera was telling my dad to “Come home.” How sad for my dad to be away from his family at a time like this. His health is such that I doubt he’ll be able to ever go back “home.”
Heaven came down and glory filled my Soul. I love that song. I can’t wait for heaven. I pray that God sees fit to come, now! Soon! There is so much pain on this earth. Often I pray “Dear God, Could you please….” And then often struggle with my prayers of wants or hearts desires when I have these images of people with so much less that pop into my head. Of this family, of their extended family, all living on a street corner. They were cooking on the street. What happened when it rained? How can I ask God for … when so many people have so much less?
That bit of my heart that was left in India hurts today. Missing my auntie even though I didn’t really know her. Looking forward to seeing her again, hearing her stories. Hugging her. Family and love is such a funny thing.