I visited Armenia this past summer with my mother and family. My father could not join us due to health reasons. One hot summer morning, I went down to Yerevan and wandered the streets of Kond, one of Yerevan's original quarters, and stumbled upon such gorgeous music from the church of St Hovhannes that I had to enter and remain for a while. I had forgotten that it was the Day of the Dead and the service was a special one dedicated to all who have left this world. It was a sombre yet beautiful service. It was quite poignant for me as we had just lost a dear relative in Uruguay and I dedicated my time there to her and to the others in my family who have died.
Little did I know that my father would pass away a little more than a month after my church visit. Looking back there were indications and I feel like my time in St Hovhannes was a time which was meant to be to bring me closer to the loss that myself and my family would endure not long after.
There are always reminders around us that there is so much strength and beauty in letting the pain of loss take its course over our bodies and lives.