After watching the beautiful sunset of 2010 in Samtse I prayed for a happy new year. The chill of death was strong in the air, and I could feel the wave coming closer. I knew life was preparing me for something bad. I lost no body in the Nepal air crash, then the Lampuri bus took away a student of mine. While I watched the sunset I was happy I escaped the season of death before it could come any closer.
But when the whole world was exchanging New Year greetings, going out for dinner, picnicking afar, hugging and loving and seeing all the joy in the world, I was crying. I lost my asha on 2nd January 2011. I can never accept it. When I went down to Samtse, we had a dinner together and I didn’t have a slightest clue that the dinner was going to be our last together.
We knew each other quite late in life, but I knew him best. We met every weekend and dinned together as if to compensate for all the times we lost so far. He reached out to me like no one has ever done. He took me down our family timeline that I long wanted to know. In him I saw myself. He would take me on a long walk and talk on different subjects. He was the best family man I knew- a great husband and father. I was so happy to have known him and be a part of his family. But I didn't know he was in a rush- as if he knew he was going to die- to tell me the story of our family which I never knew.
I don't know if I can ever overcome the loss but as I look back in time I see reasons to smile; having met him, getting to love him, having the chance to be a part of his proud family and even as he was dying he was connecting me with the part of my family I have never known. I am happy that he lived a king's life. It's our misfortune that we lost him so early in his life. God loved him more. I shall miss him everyday of my life.