Written by Suraj Shah. Inspired by greatness.

When a loved one dies, your entire routine may flip over.

This morning I got talking to my neighbour whose father died about a month ago. He had passed on at the grand age of 102.

For the last few years, it was my neighbour’s daily routine to check in on his father in the late afternoon. They lived in separate houses, but were just round the corner from each other, so checking in on him was fairly convenient from a location perspective. However, I suspect may have been also been a bit of a drag to have had to do it every single day.

A month since his father’s death and wherever my neighbour is, he still habitually checks his watch as it approaches 4:30pm, thinking that he needs to return home to check on his father.

Some routines take a while to adjust away from.

Written by Suraj Shah. Inspired by greatness.

When someone dies at the age of 90 having lived a long and full life, it may be difficult to lose them, but not so hard to accept.

When someone dies in their 50s following a long-term struggle with cancer, it is certainly hard to see them go, but still kind of makes sense. It’s almost expected.

But for a child to die at birth – how do you reconcile that?

A friend recently shared about one lady she knows whose baby died during childbirth. Nine months of carrying a precious child inside her. Months of joy, of anticipation, of anxiety and of preparation. Weeks and weeks of talk about the ‘bump’ and plans for the child’s future.

And for what? To lose this delicate young person before he’s even had the chance to have a go at life. To make something of himself in this big badass world. To soak up the love of all those around him and in return contibute to the well-being of his community.

How could he be taken away within moments of making his grand entrance into this world? Before his personality could be etched into the hearts of those around him. Before he even had the chance to shine his first smile.

This is a sad story, one with a reminder, that our life could be over at any point in time. That any one of us could be here one moment and gone the next. That this precious human life is so delicate, that every second counts.

That child lived for a mere thirty seconds. You and I sharing these words right now, have lived a considerable amount of time longer. But that time too is running out.

Figure out what’s important to you to make this precious life worthwhile. Figure it out before that choice is no longer yours.

Written by Suraj Shah. Inspired by greatness.

When you see someone behaving inappropriately, what feelings arise in you and how do you approach the situation?

A friend was recently telling me about a party he attended several years ago where there was this one married man in his mid 40s, who was slightly drunk and was chatting up many of the other women in the room. My friend was furious at this guy’s behaviour. This guy appeared sleazy and was tarnishing an otherwise fun night out for everyone else there.

Several months later, my friend had a chance meeting with this ‘sleazy’ man at a community group meeting, and it turned out that the guy had a young daughter with a severe case of autism, where she woud continually bite into furniture, just like a dog. This guy was struggling to look after his daugher and he was simply acting out. He was not himself. His behaviour at the party was clearly inappropriate, which he himself had recognised, but had resorted to drinking his sorrows away and attempting to find an escape from the struggles of his day-to-day reality.

My friend, upon learning the truth of this guy’s situation, felt great sadness. In fact, even while recounting the story to me, he had tears rolling down his eyes. He had vowed that from that day on, he would never again let first impressions count so much for how he viewed the people in the world around him. He resolved to discover the underlying truth of the situation, the struggle, fear or sorrow that somebody is going through, and sought to make sense of their behaviour, nomatter how inappropriate they behaved.

Opening eyes to sorrow

I’m grateful my friend had shared that story with me. It helped to open my eyes to the reality of just how much our family, friends, neighbours and colleagues in the world around us struggle to survive in life and make sense of the situations they face.

It helped me to notice where I lack compassion and understanding, and the work I now need to do to better tolerate and care for those around us who just want acknowledgement that life IS tough.

When they behave inappropriately

It may be that someone is drunk and seemingly uncrontrollable at a party, drowning away their sorrows of a broken relationship or the sudden death of an adored spouse.

Perhaps they have their feet up on a seat in the bus with music blaring out of their earphones, attempting to drown out the troubles of the world around them, yet never really being able to mask the deafening noise of their minds.

It could be that they are a colleague being controlling yet hostile, attempting to take charge of their working environment while a messy divorce is crumbling the stability of family life from under their feet.

Responding to inappropriate behaviour

Step back a moment and just observe how they’re behaving. See it for what it is. Separate their actions from how you feel about it. Start with the assumption that their inappropriate behaviour is not who they are at their core.

But please don’t for one moment think I am suggesting that you just let them continue to behave in this way. We all have a responsibilty to help improve the world around us and give support to those who are silently crying out for it.

You may find that it is your duty to do something about it – perhaps to hear them out and if they ask for guidance, then to suggest something that may help them. It may also be your duty to take care of the people that their actions are affecting.

Life ain’t easy, not for any of us

It’s clearly evident that this life is not easy. Not for any one of us.

We may have health, but be lacking in money. We may have millions in the bank, but no real friends to trust and care for. We may have friends and plenty of money, but be struck with a terminal illness.

We may appear to have it all – health, wealth, friendship – but still the greed of wanting more, or the fear of it all inevitably coming to an end.

Life is certainly not easy, for any one of us.

Less expecting, more understanding

Perhaps with a little more care, compassion and understanding, the way we respond to other people’s behaviour will be based on a deeper appreciation of what they are going through and founded on the truth of the situation, rather than our own expectations and judgements.

Then and only then will we see the world for what it is, our life for what it is.

No more facades. No more hiding from the truth. No more disappointment from expectations not met.

Just more care, more compassion and more understanding.

Written by Suraj Shah. Inspired by greatness.

As I spend more and more time as a bereavement support visitor, helping those who have lost a loved one to get through their suffering, I would have thought that I’d be pretty good at loosening my own emotional grip on the people I care about.

Yet, as time goes on, I seem to feel more and more heartache at the thought that those closest to me will inevitably one day be no more – in particular, my kid bro.

Sometimes I envision how I might receive the news about his death, or react to finding out about him being hurt in some serious way.

I imagine myself frozen in time, initially standing like a stone cold statue, riddled with shock, and then the next moment collapsing to the floor overcome with the pain of my insides being crushed by the grip of my very own hands.

The grip of my attachement. The pain of my loss.

Nobody is for anybody

In the timeless Jain tradition, there is a reflection titled “anyatva bhavana” which (in Gujarati) states:

“Aa sansaar ma koi koinu nathi.”

This roughly translates to:

“In this worldly life, no-one is anyone’s.”

So why do we feel such strong attachments to our younger siblings, and how can the “anyatva bhavana” reflection help us reduce the torment we relentlessly place on ourselves?

This perplexing attachment toward our siblings

The feeling we have towards our younger siblings, particularly when we grow up after all those initial years of teasing and squabbling, is of care and concern for them, blended with pride of what they have achieved in life so far.

When I look at my brother (he turned thirty this week), I see a confident caring man who has the company of a loving wife, a stable roof over his head, doing work he is committed to and the loyalty of friendships he has been growing and strengthening since childhood.

However, beneath his confident and joyful exterior, I notice his fears and his concerns. Somehow, I can feel his deepest pains that he appears to cover up. The same pains and doubts and fears that we all have – each and every one of us.

The daily discomforts of our body. The financial constraints of hectic western life. The busy-ness and habits of a time-poor society gradually creeping in.

So yes, I notice his incredible strengths, and I notice the depths of his hurt caused by the strain on a typically fractured worldly life.

It makes me want to hold him high above my head and boast about him to the world, while embracing him with a tight grip, to let him know that everything will be ok.

This is my attachment to my kid bro. The very same attachment you may also be having to those you adore.

Understanding that nobody is for anybody

In this world we realise that nomatter how much we try to help take away someone’s suffering or ask others to reduce our pain, we are ultimately truly alone.

If I am deep in debt and someone hands me a bundle of cash, that may temporarily alleviate my financial problems, but it will not cure me of the greed that led me to that state.

That greed is my own that I need to work on and resolve, so that it need not trouble me forever more.

Whatever we currently experience is a result of our past actions. All the trouble, torment and harm we have caused to others in our past has resulted in troublesome situations for us right here, right now.

Someone may run a red light and crash into the back of the car, or your house may get burned down, or business become bankrupt, or get kicked out of your job, or racially abused or anything else under the sun that causes pain, suffering, disease, despair.

But it needn’t cause pain, suffering, disease or despair.

No-one, nomatter how much they may love and care for us, can truly take that situation away from us. We have to endure it ourselves, witness it, and calmly let it pass.

If we don’t stay calm and let it pass, then what will happen? We get consumed by it, wishing that we didn’t have to deal with it, fighting to shift it from our lives, indulging in anger and causing more harm. This inevitably leads to more trouble for us in the future.

What you do now massively impacts the situations that arise for you at a later point in time.

Guaranteed.

So we must understand that everything happening to us right now is completely our own doing, our fault, our responsibility.

It doesn’t mean sit back and do nothing – we need to deal with the situation appropriately.

But while dealing with it, remain calm and let the matter gradually pass.

No-one can truly take away our pain, nor can we truly alleviate anyone’s suffering.

However, our compassionate hearts give us an opportunity to reach out to another.

When you see someone suffering, you can help them out practically and emotionally, all the while knowing that in all honesty, the only true beneficiary… is you.

(picture: Suraj with his younger brother Sawan when they were kids)

Written by Suraj Shah. Inspired by greatness.

Sometimes I think about the elder brother I never had.

My parents had a son before me, but he had died in a car accident as a baby, before I was even born.

If he was alive today, it would have been his 34th birthday and perhaps we’d have all been out as a big family celebrating this day.

But he’s no longer here. For me, he never was. Isn’t it strange to miss something you never had in the first place?

Over the years I’ve had some great friends and family, but I wonder what life would have been like if my elder brother was still alive.

When I sometimes feel this way, I take it as an opportunity to reflect on and question how good an elder brother I am myself.

Then I think about my younger brother and how he has looked up to and looked out for me all these years.

I am reminded that within my younger brother lives what I would expect from an elder.

It’s at that point when I am mesmerised by the magnificent nature of my bro.

On the days I feel weak, that fills me with both strength and comfort.

Written by Suraj Shah. Inspired by greatness.

How weird is this life? I could be sitting with you having a coffee and enjoying a laugh together, and then moments later I could be dead. Just like that.

A sudden collapse

My sister-in-law was on the phone with me this evening — she explained how earlier today her uncle in India was attending a wedding reception, greeting the family, enjoying being around everyone. Then within moments he had collapsed with a heart attack. Soon after that, he was dead.

At the age of 51, his life had suddenly ended. His warm, wonderful personality was no more.

It was only a few weeks ago that she had seen him and was hanging out with him. Little did she realise how final her last goodbye to him would really be.

How is it that someone you adore and expect to have around you forever will one day drop out of your life at the beat of a heart?

When she got the news, my sister-in-law was clearly in shock. She wouldn’t be seeing her uncle in this life ever again. When she visits India next, he won’t be there. When she goes to his house, he won’t be there. When she picks up the phone to give him a call, he won’t be there.

Coming together, falling apart

In the timeless Jain tradition, we understand that when two people come together and fall apart, it is not just for this life. Even a death doesn’t mean the absolute end of that relationship.

The act of coming together and falling apart has been happening for many lifetimes in the past and will likely happen for many more in the future. So logically, it should not bring us any suffering when someone close to us dies.

The loss is inevitable so there’s no point in crying, right?

But the academic understanding of that relationship between any two of us over multiple lifetimes, doesn’t take away the shock, or the pain, of losing someone dear to us.

Loosening the shackles

Our strong attachment to them while they were here doesn’t just disappear overnight when they are no longer with us. It takes a while for the shackles of that attachment to loosen, for that grief to lessen.

Over time, this contemplation on the ever-changing nature of the world around us and the inevitability of loss will gradually help reduce the ups and downs that we face in our day-to-day lives.

But while that work is taking place, anytime we lose something or someone we hold so dear, it will naturally bring pain and sadness. Don’t let yourself get sucked into that sadness, nor that pain. Witness it. See it for what it is and let is pass.

Only then will you able to lead a calm and purposeful life.

Found out today that a friend from uni took his own life in early December (over 6 weeks back). How much must he have been suffering to have resorted to that.

Thoughts are with his family and close friends who may be feeling confused, sad, angry and perhaps guilty for “not seeing the signs”. We never really know how alone those around us feel, how much suffering they go through, what they’re really thinking or feeling at any given moment.

Perhaps right now, for anyone experiencing some kind of loss, lets take a moment to be present, listen to them, listen without judgement, without opinions, without advice. Just be there to listen, for them to know that they are being heard, that they are not suffering in silence.

Written by Suraj Shah. Inspired by greatness.

Sticking to a commitment is important.

Until recently, I have been rubbish at sticking to my commitments. I’m still not all that great now, but am improving.

This morning I had a bereavement support visit planned for 11am. At 9.30am I looked outside the window, saw the snow falling and settling on the ground and reconsidered my half-hour walk each way.

After deliberating on it for a few minutes, I called the client, suggesting we postpone to the following week. I could immediately hear disappointment in his voice. He explained how he had psyched himself up for the session (it was our very first session), “but hey”, he said, “it’s not as bad as other things I’ve been through recently”. His wife had died a month earlier.

That sadness in his voice woke me up to my own selfish intentions… and melted them. I was so much more concerned about my own comforts that I had forgotten about his pain, his needs, his suffering.

I decided there and then that I would make sure I got to that session, come rain, shine or snow! Yes it was a half-hour trek in the snow, and yes I was frozen when I reached there, but the session was worth it. I placed someone else’s need above my own and it felt damn good.

Commitments are so important

Nomatter how crappy we may be feeling inside, we have no idea what impact not sticking to a commitment will have on the person we have promised to meet or do something for.

It could have gone so many ways. He may have given up hope in support from others. He may have got angry and complained to the organisation that I represent when making these visits. He may have drowned his sorrows (with alcohol) and hidden from the world.

On the flip side, it was an effective session for him and certainly a valuable experience for me.

What’s more, it shook me up to my priorities, what’s important to me and doing the work that’s important. I feel a great sense of purpose in bereavement support work and this morning’s deliberation not only made me act unprofessionally… it took away something that is so important in my life.

So when I took that leap and decided to make that trek in the snow to keep my commitment, all the right stuff fell back into place.

As time moves forward, make fewer commitments (focusing on the important ones) and then stick to each of them. The world will be better for it.

Written by Suraj Shah. Inspired by greatness.

It’s difficult enough losing one son. But to lose a second to the same medical condition — that’s not easy for any mother to deal with.

Earlier this week I spoke with the mother of a classmate who passed away. Her son was a decent guy, a talented musician and got on well with most people. When I read about his death in the school magazine, I attempted to make contact with his family via the school. His mother called me back.

My friend was 31 years old when he died. I had last spoken with him 15 years ago, but had lost touch with him since leaving school.

His mother explained that when his younger brother died due to the same medical condition, my friend’s health suddenly deteriorated too – almost as though he had given up hope.

But today’s post isn’t about hope or regaining lost hope. It is about the painful reality of a mother’s second loss.

So here we are, a mother who had lost two sons. There is of course a third son who lives, the eldest son. Some may indelicately state that “at least you still have him, your eldest son” — but that doesn’t make it any better. That doesn’t make the loss any less.

Some may say “at least both your sons are no longer suffering” — but that doesn’t make a mother’s loss any less either.

Others may still fumble “ok, it’s time now for you to get on with your life and make the most of what you have left” — but a mother’s loss takes time to deal with, to live out its course in its own natural time.

I’m reminded of the mother of another school friend (a friend who passed away in a car accident almost a decade ago). Since then she has become a grandmother, twice. But it doesn’t take away the loss of her son.

Family events will come and go. Families will expand and grow and transition through bad times and good. But a son lost will never be forgotten, nomatter how much outside forces may insist it should.

My thoughts right now are with all the mothers who have raised and lost. Lost through distance. Lost through misunderstandings. Lost through death.

A mother’s loss doesn’t get easier, regardless of how many times she experiences it. I hope that the suffering mothers in the world around us find some comfort and courage to feel lighter, to grow stronger, to live with love.

Written by Suraj Shah. Inspired by greatness.

“O Ahura, rise within me,
grant me steadfastness of purpose.
— The Atash Nyaish prayer, the Zoroastrian Gathas

Welcome to the new year, to a new start, to a new beginning.

The past year has been one of ups and downs. Many many ups, and just as many downs.

A year filled with gains and pleasures and delight. A year also filled with loss and pain and sufffering.

The year just gone has taught this for sure: all that we gain in the world around us, we will inevitably lose.

And that’s ok – that’s the nature of the world around us.

So let me salute this new year, this new beginning.

Let the year ahead have fewer ups and fewer downs.

Let me hold on less to what will inevitably go.

Let me uncover that which this precious life is.

Let the year ahead be one of purpose, of calm, of clarity.

Let the year ahead be one of peace for family, for friends, for colleagues and our neighbours.

Wishing you a happy, peaceful year ahead.