A very dear friend asked me about grief and I said to her that the hardest part of grief is its permanence. Humans, as they grow older (read: mature), tend to have a smaller circle of folks they are close with. Hence, when people within that circle leave forever, it leaves a void that’s permanent and forever.
In all honesty, I remember very little about my mother. I remember her in the kitchen, I remember her waiting for me to return from school and her calling me “malooty’. I remember the last one distinctly because no one calls me that now. 30 years since she last called me that. I lost her when I was 6 yrs old, as old as Cookie is now. Sometimes I catch myself looking at the girls and thinking will they actually remember me if I dropped dead right now? Sad to think that while my elder one will, my younger one might not.
I think the earliest non photographic memory I have of Das is him carrying me and putting me on the cycle rickshaw I used to go to school in. All the way till 10th, from junior kindergarten, he’d either put me on the ride to school or walk me to the bus stop. So many of my schoolmates envied that. Not once has he offered me advice on what to do or what to pursue or what not to do and the likes. Like every true relationship, we have had our ups and downs. Undoubtedly the best father, but he was also human and like all humans, he’d make mistakes too. That said, I know that he was the go-to person for a lot of people. From my friends to his students, he would patiently listen to them rant and offer practical solutions as well. Relationship issues to career options, he was just ready to offer all kinds of help to everyone who was looking for it.
I have never been a responsible person and have been the kind to take up something and then drop it mid-way because I didn’t want to pursue it. Be it raising love birds, or learning French, or think of it now, even parenting. Hard truths. Das had always been my plan b-z, my ultimate problem solver, my keeper of secrets, free baby sitter and what not! I didn’t need to be responsible because I knew he had my back.
We always take the folks we love a lot, for granted. You see, when you lose someone, all of a sudden you have no choice but to live in a world you don’t recognize. People out there are just living their mundane lives and seem to not have a care in the world. You sometimes try to live in that world too. This involves fake smiles and pretend interest in small talk. It’s exhausting and so you choose to isolate instead. Sometimes I think it would be nice to switch places with them. And not have your loss constantly replaying in your mind. All those anxious thoughts ruminating. It’s a rude awakening when everyone just keeps moving. Laughing. Making plans. While you are suspended in time. Just going through the motions. With a pain so deep that you can’t even exactly pinpoint where it is coming from. Invisible to others. But it’s there. And it always hurts.
People keep telling me “They are always with you”. But where? It feels so long since you have heard their voice. You almost feel like you have been abandoned to roam this unrecognizable world alone. And on the other end, feel guilty for trying to move forward without them. After losing a few loved ones, I can now authoritatively say that grief is a lonely journey when you are the only one who truly understands how this particular loss feels.
Not too many people know what I have gone through this year. I’ve seen the most vulnerable version of me as it took everything in me to survive these silent battles. I’ve seen the saddest version of me— the most wasted and devastated. Despite that, I’ve learnt a lot while I was hurting. This may have been the most painful year yet, but at least I survived. I almost gave up and lost myself because I was hurting, a lot but many times I also pulled myself together just to survive this year, and for that, I am really proud of myself.
Today, at 37 years and 4 months, I can say I have been forced to adult. They say that for parents, however old one has grown, they will always be a child. Now with both of them gone, I just had to start adulting. The last 365 days has been my year of adulting. Definitely a work in progress but I aim to ace it, one day.
They say nothing can replace a mother. My father did and he aced it. And then he left that void which could never be replaced. My dearest acha, you will forever be missed and nobody will ever be able to replace the being you were. I hope I make you proud, one day.
You may have left this world, but you are not gone.
You may seem faraway but I will always find you.
In dreams and familiar places, in memories and songs.
You may have left this world, but you can’t leave us
You will stay in our hearts where forever you shall live.
VERISIMILITUDE 