Four days ago, last year, 11th of March, my father had a stroke. The next few months were... hard. I learnt of how unstoppable my mother is, how much I have in common with my father and the responsibility that comes with being the only son. There were bouts of staying up lates, crying, staring into nothing, re-discovering how fickle all this is. My father is back on his feet and has been so for a while, has been back to work and the grind of London, the pace of work means we forget about those days. Last night, we (the family) went to a Church to thank God for my father's life, a year after the incident. When the blood vessel burst, it stopped on its own and did not flood the rest of his brain. The doctors do not know why this happened, my father thanks God. In all honesty, faith has dwindled, I sit comfortably on the 'want to believe but .....' line. Tried to define myself through my work, to believe through it, but it should be the other way round, the belief should fuel my work. Half way through the prayer, I glance up, and all the heads are bowed, the bright lights bathe everything, like faith, sinks into the heads of the balding men, glows like a dim-beneath skin halo, and the preacher is in tears...
His voice cracks as he thanks God for the lives of men. And always, when I am presented with incredible moments like this where the belief in something undefinable, abstract, necessary and unnecessary moves one to tears, I wish I could swap places, I envy the conviction. I wish for tears.
After this, the preacher gives a long weird babbling sermon, all I take from it is a theory I will try to explore in the future, that happiness needs three things: Something to do, something to love and something to hope for. I think I have two of the three covered, maybe just one, but I was wondering just how many of us have all?
something to do something to love something to hope for