Joy is the Name of Love
My partner once asked me, “What do you feel when you’re with me?”
And I answered,
“Joy.”
Joy means
Joy, in its essence, is but one of the myriad appellations of love.
Joy is the form of love that I learned from years of witnessing the profound joy love has brought to my family, my Papa and Mama. And, of course, the source of it all comes from one of the biggest and most important legacy that my Opa and Oma left: the joyfulness and lightheartedness of love.
Opa departed from this world last week, on August 31, 2023, in Surabaya. Oma, like a distant memory, had bid farewell almost two decades earlier, on January 25, 2011, in Jakarta. If I were to be asked what’s the biggest gift and the most thankful thing I have in this lifetime, I would answer: I am blessed to come from the line of Opa and Oma, who have showered me with wisdom like a gentle rain, teaching me about kindness, humility, empathy, and most importantly, love that dances in my heart like a joyful melody.
Back in the days when Oma was still alive, my Opa would joke around with her like a jolly jester, even though he was usually as serene as a still lake. Every morning and evening, they would gather in the cozy living room of their house in Balikpapan, while their children and grandchildren would swarm around them like bees to a hive. Oma would sing, or they would tease us like mischievous sprites, their laughter dancing in the air. Sometimes, they would be bickering and teasing each other in Bugis or Dutch, the languages we don’t understand. There was always laughter, like a bubbling brook, and a warm feeling in your heart, as comforting as a cozy blanket, from knowing that you were born loved, like a precious gem, raised with love, like a tender embrace, and grew with love, like a flourishing garden.
“Joy is the infallible sign of the presence of God.”
– Pierre Teilhard de Chardin
In the years that followed Oma’s passing, Opa’s joy seemed to wither away like a wilting flower. The living room, like a wilted flower losing its vibrant colors, gradually becomes somber, as if a cloud of sadness hangs heavy in the air, reminiscent of the absence of Oma and the way Opa slipped away, like a gentle breeze fading into the distance, from the path of life.
“Sorrow prepares you for joy. It violently sweeps everything out of your house, so that new joy can find space to enter. It shakes the yellow leaves from the bough of your heart, so that fresh, green leaves can grow in their place. It pulls up the rotten roots, so that new roots hidden beneath have room to grow. Whatever sorrow shakes from your heart, far better things will take their place.” – Rumi
Now an era has ended, like a setting sun bidding farewell to the day.
In the wake of Oma and Opa’s departure, my family finds itself in an immense void. Grief, a melancholic specter that ebbs and flows, yet never truly dissipates, is an enduring testament to the enigmatic nature of existence. Such is the essence of life, where sorrows linger, haunting our souls with their persistent presence. The departure of Opa and Oma bestowed upon us a profound grief, a sorrow that permeated the very essence of our being.
Yet, in the midst of this melancholic lamentation, their passing also bestows upon us a poignant reminder, a gentle nudge from the universe, of the boundless blessings that have graced our lives in the form of love and joy.
We are fortunate to come from a union forged in the crucible of love, stand as living testaments to the enduring power of that sacred bond. Love, that enigmatic force that propels us forward, serves as a profound impetus for the very essence of our existence. It is the ethereal thread that weaves through the tapestry of our lives, guiding us through the labyrinthine paths of our journey. Fortunate are those who, in their transformative journey, dissolve into a flowing stream, harmoniously serenading the nocturnal realm with their melodious cadence.
To truly comprehend the anguish that arises from a great deal of delicate feelings
To bear the wounds inflicted by one’s own comprehension of love, and to willingly and joyfully let the crimson essence flow forth.
To arise at the break of day, one’s heart fluttering with ethereal delight, and express gratitude for yet another day brimming with affection;
to recline at midday and contemplate the rapturous essence of love; to return to one’s abode at twilight, brimming with appreciation;
and subsequently, to slumber with heartfelt prayers for the cherished one and a melodious hymn of appreciation upon one’s tongue.
Farewell, dear Opa and Oma. We extend our heartfelt gratitude for nurturing us with affection and imparting the profound wisdom that love encompasses not only blissful elation and profound satisfaction, but also the bittersweet anguish and melancholy that inevitably accompany the profound experience of loving.
