On a personal note, we must always ask ourselves why we want someone to stay with us. There are times and situations when the outcomes, however unwanted, are not unexpected. Which does not make it any easier, of course. But, if it's someone's time, we must be able to let them go. It was the hardest thing to accept in the process of my mum passing away, but I knew it was her who mattered the most, especially as her illness was progressing. Sometimes, the body comes to the end of the road. But what matters, after all the pain, is the legacy of the person.
Some people are bigger than life and Mandela is one of them. Most of historically important figures -- especially so hugely positive ones -- have lived in different eras, we only know about them from the books and cannot relate to them on almost personal level, but - Mandela is a man of our time, our era, our own history. Not a complete stranger. We are privileged. It's an overwhelming feeling.
Therefore, both objectively and subjectively, I can understand the feeling of collective anxiety. And I think it is even more augmented by the fact that so very, very few public personalities nowadays are such strong moral public figures. I remember thinking along these lines when Mother Theresa passed away. We almost feel like "Who will now show us the light and the right road?" In some way, we all become orphans when such people are no more with us. We have to demonstrate, on our own, that we were listening while those special people were talking.
May I share a story? These days it's 10 years since a very special event when I, as I like to say it, saw Mandela, which technically did happen, although I was in the audience and he was on the stage. But I made sure I was as close to the stage as possible, as a mere mortal who wanted to make the most of the opportunity to breathe the same air as this man. And I dialled my husband on the phone, so he can listen to Mandela's speech too. Those are a hugely treasured few moments from my personal history, starting with U2 singing "One man come in the name of love", then the music getting quieter and the atmosphere rising as we all knew whom Bono Vox went to get from the backstage, and the roar that followed. I was a volunteer at the Special Olympics in Dublin in 2003, and Mandela had declared the Games open that night. 10 years on, I still get the goosebumps and tears in my eyes when I remember those moments.
(It's around 9:00 mark on this video. Also, Mandela on the stage, 2nd photo in this slide show. )
