For some reason a few people have mentioned that they want to hear my reflections regarding the death of my cousin, five weeks ago. I'm not really sure how to interpret this. Of course I am deeply saddened by Ravin's passing, as everyone who knew him feels in varying degrees. But I truly believe that grief is something which only becomes more tolerable over time - there is not much that I can say or do to magically heal someone's sadness. All that any of us can do in these situations is to offer our support to those who need it most.
I suppose, in terms of reflections, what has been on my mind since his passing are the many memories I have of Ravin. Some are silly, some are stupid, but the one that stands out most is when I heard that he was going to be a father. Sure I was happy for him, but what I remember most is my budding feminist voice, feeling so irritated by the entire situation. 'Of course they're all celebrating that Ravin now has a child out of wedlock' I thought to myself. I was angry because I knew that if the roles were reversed, and one of my unwed female cousins was having a baby, there would be no celebration - there would only be disappointment and shame. I feel terrible to admit this, but I judged Ravin for his actions, and I judged my male relatives (and let's face it: most men) in Trinidad who celebrated their sexual liberation and yet still labelled their female equivalents with degrading slangs. I knew that I could never remove the stigma from women, instead I wanted there to be an equal stigma for men. So I judged Ravin for his actions.
Obviously, I have major issues with the cultural, political and social inequalities women face in our society. But judging men in order to create stigma across both genders is not the solution (it's judgemental thinking that got us here in the first place). I knew this on a theoretical level already, but it was and in some cases still is difficult to put into practice. I do remember though, the moment I heard Ravin had died, all judgement was suddenly transformed into gratitude. I felt so grateful that at least, before Ravin left this earth, he was blessed with the gift of fatherhood. Whatever the circumstances in which it occurred, he shared so many precious moments with his son. And the gratitude I have is probably nowhere near the gratitude Ravin must have felt to be a father, and to see himself unmistakably reflected in his child (who apparently looks and acts exactly as Ravin did when he was a young boy).
A situation I once looked upon with such bitterness, I now see as God's grace. I am reminded of a very popular quote from the Bible: 'Let him who is without sin cast the first stone'. We are all guilty of casting judgements on others without first reflecting on our own flaws and misconduct. But in addition to that, we judge others without knowing what the Lord's plans are for that person. None of us know what karma we have come with from our past, or what is in store for us in the future. Why then, do we continue to place blame, guilt, and judgement on others? For me at least, Ravin's death has created an opportunity to reflect on my own judgements from the past, of the stones I have mistakenly cast on others. Perhaps there is an opportunity for you to reflect on your past judgements as well.
Rest In Peace Rav
i understand the point you are trying to make .. with pre judgement etc. ... but is this really necessary to have on a public forum ?
ReplyDeleteThis is still your cousin"s reputation, now he is gone, why would you want your "readers" to judge him as well like you did ? so just as you are trying to admit that you have judged and disagree with his life"s choices , you are allowing others right here to judge him as well... is that fair ?
Why not write of positivity and do actual justice to your cousin"s name and not forgetting the unfair way in which he passed away. Leaving his child of 3 years old without a father for the rest of his life , or his saint of a mother who never deserved to loose her first born.
Speak of the way he always looked out for your sister and yourself as if you were his little sisters.
Again i understand your point , but this is so disappointing to read .. that this is all you can write about in "reflection to Ravin"s death"
Firstly, thank you for posting your comment. It takes a brave soul to share their thoughts so openly. To know that I've made someone think more deeply about an issue - even if it's in opposition to my own thinking, is quite rewarding as a writer.
ReplyDeleteSecond, though I don't know exactly who you are (which is fine and you're right as a reader), but I suspect that you are also a relative grieving the loss of Ravin, and if I haven't already expressed my condolences to you personally, then I offer them here again.
I'm sorry to hear that you're disappointed. Just to clarify, what I have written above is not 'all I can write' about Ravin's death. My most personal reflections and condolences have been offered to his family, and to me those are the type of private comments that don't belong on a public forum (which is why I chose not to post them here).
You're absolutely right, it is not fair to judge others. That is the exact purpose of this post. Nobody should judge Ravin or anyone who has a child out of wedlock. This should not be an act that negatively impacts on one's reputation. If anyone's reputation is on the line here, it is my own, because I have openly admitted that I made an incorrect judgement on someone's life choices - which to me, should be cause for a much greater shame.
In all honesty, the greatest gift Ravin has given me is this insight: the understanding that we cannot judge another for the circumstances in which they become a parent. Yes, I could have written about the many lovely memories I have of him, the many parties we went to, the many laughs we shared, but I wanted to write about something much deeper than these moments. I wanted to write about the greatest impact Ravin has had on me as a person - the thing which has changed my outlook on life, and on my interactions with others.
To me, that was the greatest justice I could do to his name.