Aba

​You left this world a wounded soul.

Ever since I remember, I had a belief in me that we have a purpose.  I had also grown up believing my purpose would manifest later in my life.  When you died, I felt disillusioned, as your life seemed to end incomplete.

I have a list on my home page, a list of Heroes, in my eyes.  Big names such as Gandhi and the Dalai Lama.  Others less known, such as Desmond Doss, and Eddie Jaku.  People that manage to stay loyal to kindness and love in a world full of hate, anger, and aggression.  They seem untouched by fear as their connection to a higher truth seems eternal.  I have wondered what sort of future could we possibly hope for, when such heroes have entered our world, touching us for a while, but in the greater scheme of things, leave a world unchanged.

You were always a people’s person, Aba.  Thriving in social settings, you engaged life and welcomed its attention.   Never shallow, though, you spent hours connecting with your friends in the quiet of our home, as you found us all interesting, the human psyche intriguing.

You knew you deserved happiness and walked that path naturally.  You lived your life to the fullest, committed to your poetry from a young age, a passionate expression of your vulnerability.  It spoke of people and nature alike, often with a sense of wonder.  Although life was sometimes difficult, as is everyone’s, ‘failure’ was merely a call to try again and do better.

It occurred to me lately that I am looking at things all wrong.  I expect somehow to find a way to match the purpose of my heroes.  To somehow rise from my petty little self to something better, greater, no longer being vulnerable to the frailty of the human condition.  After you died people began to make contact with me.  People I never even knew existed.  Strangers.  They had popped up from all over the world through social media, to tell me how sorry they were to hear of your death.  Telling me how you had changed their lives.  People who might still be in contact with you, others who may not have spoken to you for decades, telling me what a lasting impact you had on them.
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How else would I define a Hero?  Maybe our purpose here is not set out as clearly as we would like. Maybe you never knew the impact you had on others.  Maybe no one told you while you were alive.  And so you breeze in and out of their lives, unaware.  A legacy left for your children to discover.

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