I wished him on his 60th birthday

its a year since your dad passed away he said

last year this day,it was his 13th day ritual he said

that moment when you know the end is near

that moment when you want to fight that battle for life

that moment when you realise that yes you too had prayed for a painless release for him

that moment when you realise, you prayed that death must take him

that moment when you regret... shame yourself, call yourself out - How could you

that moment when you pray, god... please..

that moment when you realise, it is inevitable

that moment when you realise, it is irreversible

that moment when you realise,  i am going to lose him..forever

that moment when you realise.. and feel..  the hollow in the pit of your stomach, a sinking feeling.. an emptiness..


that moment !!

will never forget.... no.. i do not want to forget.. he was desperate..he was tying to say something

i removed his oxygen mask to hear him better

he was breathless

couldn't speak

i put his mask back

i remember him shaking his head violently
 

i should have insisted on staying there

i should have stayed there the night before

and that is a regret i will take to my grave

and this will remain a rant... a wail

why dont they allow family members inside the icu... atleast close to  a dying man

i had wanted to be by his side..holding his hand.

that afternoon...

and just as i was thinking of him on his death anniversary... i find a book where he would write down quotes he had liked..or pasted cuttings which made an impression on him


and it was providence that I find that book on that day

to see his pencil scrawled notes

to remember how he used to impress on me the importance of a good handwriting

and the other life lessons he had felt i should learn and inculcate


and then i stumble upon this page which had this quote

"A dying man needs to die, as a sleepy man needs to sleep, and there comes a time when it is wrong, as well as useless, to resist."


Stewart Alsop (1914-1974) American journalist


and i am taken back to that day.. 2nd june 2019.. where he had first given up on life

i will not come back..this is the end

I struggle with the memomries of the day and the several days leading to this one...

and then there are the memories of tomorrow and the many days after that

sometimes i want to remember it all.. recollect it all

there are times when i tell myself.. blnk them out..

then there are times when i tell myself, go with the flow... let it all come out

then there are time i tell myself... move on. 

how does one do it?  move on?

i know this loss... the loss of a parent.. was meant to be.. he lived long.. he was a parent.  a grand parent.. at his age.. they die

and then i am struck with fear..

of loss

the dreams ... they continue.

i wake up with a start

eyes wide awake..

and feel an emptiness

as if in a rarified room

no air to breathe

i struggle

gasp for air

the voice in my head .... ashoo ..how shall i breathe... there is no air

and i am terrified

i realise its a dream

i try to wake up my mind... its a dream..its a dreamm

and yet i hear another voice... he is gone... nevvvver to come back again

the loss.. the reality..the semi dream like state... it gets confusing

in that state too i hear another voice asking to get a hold on myself..its very easy to slip...the mind.. i shouldnt let it play games..

and somewhere in this ...i am lulled into a slumber once again.   for which i am greatful

as i wrtie this.. i think of death.. of loved ones.. my friends n family who have lot spouses.. children..

one cannot grade loss

one does, though!

june 1st... that was the day we admitted you....your last hospital trip... you went alive.. came home wrapped in a shroud

i know i will be able to recollect all those moments

i know for some unknown reason.. i am buillding those walls... piling those almost tangible and visible bricks.. memory blocks

i know i wll hurt

i nknow some day i will dismantle this wall... brick by brick... i will cry... my body wracking with my sobs.. i know it  will be hard ..

i know myself... i know  i will do it

and for some strange reason.. i do not want to do it in the privacy of my bathroom, or my room  ...clanging away on my keybaord, .scratching away at every membrane or tissue which covers a memory

for some reason i want it to be a warm lap...and  a gentle pat .. a gentle thumping on my back...on  my head..comforting me

my eyes.. they are brimming with tears!

They have passed away....

and yet each time i remember them....they appear .... a vision...talking, moving, laughing, smiling... my mother-in-law - at the stove,  sweat pouring down her brow.. basking in the pride of being the eldest of the house, leading a team...i see her.. ....sometimes in her finery...sometimes in her sweaty cotton saree..

the father-in-law...smiling now, engaged in a deep debate with his cousins....

the brother in law...being teased

another - teasing

they have been gone for months, some for years.... but they appear in front of my eyes... like an apparition...wispy..gossamer like.... yet very very real..

i feel my father's presence as i cook. as i am being  untidy, unorganized......talking to me,...reprimanding me..sometimes, laughing with me....

and   i realize some day... not very far from today, my children might feel the same..... see a vision of me...wispy... gossamer like... and i hope they remember me with a smile on their face...my memory bringing a smile on their face..the tear will soon follow... I know.....

 inevitable it is!  both!

let go.......

of everything that hurts

of everything that weighs...on ur chest...

of everything that weighs you down



let go

of expectations...of you

of expectations of others who are not you



feel the lightness


and maybe you will soar!

and do not let that be an expectation either! 

Of Memories ...and Tears...

the memories ... every event plays itself exactly as it happened... I remember the days.. the words, the expressions....and the pain.  I feel it exactly as I felt it then...........

let the tears flow

they seem to have the power to wash those memories away...the sting

cry

sob

wail

let the tears flow    flow... copiously.. a steady stream... a trickle..

feel the prickling pain ebb

don't stifle them

they stab at your eyes

let them flow

that gaping wound of loss .. that will never fill

the tears....will soothe them


the memories..they will remain.....now fragrant as petrichor!

and when the memories begin to hurt, it is best to forget them!

you understand why this process exists... forgetting