4 years, Already!

This is my fourth year living without you. I knew it would be hard, but I didn’t know it would be this hard. I didn’t know I would break down while preparing tea today, because that’s when I would have phoned you. And I didn’t know how much I would need those consoling hugs from barfi, your granddaughter, the one who remind me of you more and more the older she gets. Barfi keeps asking me about you every now and then. Not sure of how to explain her, I keep telling that you are with sun during the day and with moon during the night watching her with eagles eye. I am sure one day she will find out what I meant. I wish you could have heard her say it. She has your solid build and your kind heart. She is so much bigger than when you held her last. She’s already a five years old, Daddy. She was only 1 year old when we lost you. She has your thought process and your happy demeanour. She is definitely having your sense of humour. 

 

I wish you could have taught her math or cooked her your famous tomato upma. I wish you could have spent more time with her that  she would treasure, just as you did for me. You were so kind, Daddy. I wish you could be here to cheer her on at her karate classes, yes Barfi is learning karate these days. I wish you could be there to watch her graduate and get married. I wish you could see all you had to offer as a dad and a grandpa and maybe one day, a great-grandpa. You had so much life left to live. So many more memories to make. It hurts unbelievably to think that barfi won’t remember you. But I promise you this, Daddy—she will know you. I will make sure of it. Not a day, or hardly even a minute, goes by that I don’t think of you. I talk to you all the time and I still know what you would say in response. I’m scared to lose that. I don’t want to forget what your big bear hugs felt like

People say it gets easier, and maybe it does. The hurt never really goes away, but I have learnt to live with it. Death becomes a way of life. But when I hear one of your favorite songs, or feel the urge to pick up the phone and call you—that’s when it hits me. I break down like I did the moment you took your last breath. May be, Grief isn’t something you can control or wish away. It’s always there, ever-present, just waiting to strike.

And today, it’s like a heavy cloak hanging over my shoulders, I am trying to enjoy this day with the family I still have. They understand, of course, and I know they miss you, too.

Thank you for supporting me, believing in me, teaching me, being there for me, and loving me, Dad.

I know I will Never Get Over This, But i Will Get Through this. As I learn to accept, I might not feel the pain but the scar remains

In loving memory of my dearest Daddy,

Aditya