The elders in our community are magicians. When we lose one, the community feels the loss, massively.
We recently lost one of our beloved community elders, Keshubhai, and I have deep remorse that I didn’t spend enough time with him.
Consistently, in every single interaction I’ve had with him in the past decade that I recall knowing him, he would gently look towards me, hold my gaze and smile with such heart and joviality that all my stresses would melt away in that moment. He might share a few brief words, but with each word uttered, his eyes would glisten with mischief.
And it’s not just Keshubhai. So many of our elders have worked incredibly hard, over the decades, to cultivate inner stillness so that their light may shine bright. It’s a light that embraces, that disarms, that illuminates and can fill you, all parts of you, with love.
As each of our elders continue to leave, one by one, I realise just how much of the magic we are letting slip through our fingers. As I get older, year by year, day by day, moment to moment, I endeavour to absorb this magic embodied by our elders. I seek, with all my heart, to be worthy of becoming such a gentle, loving, joyful elder in the community when I reach later life.
Keshubhai’s departure has hit me harder than I would have cared to admit. While he might no longer be around for me to interact with, this gentle smiling magician lives on in my heart.