Updated: Aug 2, 2021
“ A grey 5x7 card falls out and lands at my feet. “We are married!” the card exclaims in Om’s handwriting, with hearts drawn around it. I pause and my breathing stops. Memories and pain flood through me and punch my stomach as my eyes water. "
I placed the Deities safely into the closet so I could begin to pull the worn covers off each floor cushion, tossing them into a blue Ikea laundry bag. Luke nests in here each day because he loves pillows and it makes me happy that he has this comforting room for the many hours he is now alone. I have not cleaned the room all year, avoiding it because the loss strikes me so deeply when I am in here. Sharing this with Om was the most sincere and, I had thought, binding part of our relationship. I found my beautiful spiritual path through a door he opened for me, and when he disregarded it so brazenly so soon after we married, it made me struggle with questions and doubt that I have since separated from my own strengthening devotion. I had not lost my faith in God, just my affection for this room. I attach my phone to the speakers and turn up kirtan by Vaiyasaki Dasa , open the window to let in the cool air, unwrap a roll of paper towels and begin. I wipe every shelf and every corner, frame then hang new pictures and fabric paintings of Radha Krishna and add colorful pillowcases and candles. I take the first big book off the tall, glass library shelf and open it. A grey 5x7 card falls out and lands at my feet. “We are married!” the card exclaims in Om’s handwriting, with hearts drawn around it. I pause and my breathing stops. Memories and pain flood through me and punch my stomach as my eyes water. I force a breath and pick up the card, brushing my fingers softly across the writing before discarding it into the plastic bag hanging on the door. I sit down on the floor, put my hands to prayer and give thanks for my two greatest blessings: The day Krishna brought Om into my life, and the day he took him away.