Besides the Final Moments

A 60-year-old guy who had worked the land all of his life lived in a peaceful Indian hamlet surrounded by enormous fields of golden crops. His rough, calloused hands were a testament to the decades he had spent working in the heat to support his family. The days were longer now, though, and the fields felt more deserted. The one person who had been his support system, his friend, and his beacon of hope was gone—his wife.

Ever since her death, he had been engrossed in recollections, thinking about the past all the time. He was reminded of her in every part of their tiny home, including the way she hummed while cooking, reprimanded him for failing to take his medication, and chuckled at his old stories despite having heard them a hundred times. He missed their little disputes, their warmth, and her presence.

He sat by the riverside day after day, engrossed in his thoughts as he watched the water run. "I wish I had been more kind... If only I had told her how much I loved her more frequently, instead of worrying about the fields, I could have spent more time with her. With every day that went by, the burden of his regrets increased. When the locals saw how upset he was, they made an effort to comfort him. They used to say, "You must not dwell on the past," "She wouldn’t want to see you like this." However, their statements seemed hollow. How were they supposed to comprehend the anguish of losing someone who had been his entire universe?

"You?keep?looking?back,?regretting?what?you?could?have?done,"?an?old?acquaintance?commented?to?him?one?evening?while?sitting?next?to?him. However,?have?you?ever?considered?what?she?would?desire?for?you?right?now? There?was?a?lingering?question. His?wife?had?always?been?an?advocate?of?progress?and?finding?joy?in?the?small?things?in?life. For?the?first?time?in?months,?he?wasn't?sitting?by?himself?in?the?dark?that?night. Rather,?as?she?always?did,?he?lighted?the?little?oil?lamp?beside?their?bedside?and?prayed?quietly. He?visited?the?village?temple?the?following?morning,?where?she?frequently?spent?her?evenings. He resumed going to the fields, not just out of obligation but also to treasure the memories they had created together. He gradually came to understand that grieving does not equate to forgetting. It entails remembering with joy rather than sadness. He began to spend time with the local youngsters, sharing with them the stories his wife had loved. He recovered a purpose and sought solace in the world she had left behind. There were still moments to be experienced in the present, but the past could not be altered. Therefore, he made the decision to live—not just for himself, but also for their shared love and the life she would have desired for him.