For you'll Go to Heaven

Gone were the days of memories and regret. There are numerous days that I’ll count on my fingers to cast my mind back to joys and fun we had. All those abiding memories and, hereupon, your absence are imprinted on my mind. The tear that rolls down my cheek is a sign of the misery of your absence. Such is the uncertainty and desolation of our lives, and it is now my endurance.

I remember the place where we first met. It was dusty and noisy, yet surprising to see you through the haze of dust in the sun with a cute smile on your chubby cheeks. And right away I followed you to your office, and thank you for your syrupy cup of tea. I still feel ashamed to talk to you boldly, and I can’t forget your simple complaint about my quietness and reticence.

The petals that you touched are still beautiful and lively; the signs that you scribbled are still inscribed with no distortion; dews that were on the leaves are still fresh and sparkling in the rays of the beautiful bulb behind the bench; and the throne that you got pricked on is still strong on the sturdy branch.

In the busy Zangdopelri compound of elderly circumambulating and chanting mani and youngsters snapping the beautiful scene of the fountain at the side of the compound, in the small canopy, I met you for the second time of your choice. Your angst at my touch on your back and cheeks and my tricks to check your temper were all mischief for you. Sorry, Tashi, if you still mind.

Late Tashi

You were angry with me for keeping in touch with your friend Pema, and you assumed we were together. And I still have the guilt of compromising our relationship. And I know you believe implicitly that I cheated you, and the belief is still carrying with you, for you might not find the right path. And I pray to forget all those mischiefs of mine, and may you go straight to heaven. Go to the eternal place where we met for the second time and wait for your friends, who will be coming soon. The day isn’t certain, but be patient, my dear.

The pain of your disease and the pain of my sickness—hearing your voice was all that struggled a lot. The greatest pain was when you were unable to answer my call and I couldn’t hear your final voice. Maybe you thought it was worth not hearing my voice, but for me it was worth anything, and I didn’t anticipate you leaving this wonderful earth so soon.

I didn’t believe your friend Pema when she said you are no longer in this world. How can I and how’ll I react to such threatening and thundering news? The moment I ended our conversation, I was totally numb. It was a moment of utmost regret and pain, the regret of not letting you know the truth behind my silence and mischief. It seemed I knowingly concealed my feelings. Alone in the corner of my room, I tried to endure the pain and tried to smile at our memories, but you always disturb me with your sweet grin on your chubby cheeks.

We have seen hundreds of butter lamps being lit in the small chamber beside Zangdopelri. Today I am going to that chamber to light for you to clear thy darkness and lead the way to a heavenly abode. I will climb on top of the mountain and hoist prayer flags to call you and inform you to wait for me in heaven. I am coming soon, and let’s reunite in the afterlife!

 Om Mani Padmee Hung hre