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Our anchors

November 19, 2020

How do you grieve the loss of a loved one? Of your first hero?

Of the man who laid the foundation of the family you loved and grew up in?

How do you grieve the loss of your father?

How do you grieve the loss of someone who had a pure heart and  a happy laugh?

Fathers.

Those unsung heroes of our life.

I watch in silence.

Terrified to think of my own parents. My mind refuses to entertain any such thought.
So I simply watch..and listen.

Heartbroken to witness the heartache that my soulmate is going through.

He has lost so much…so much.

Words would not be able to capture the love that a human heart can hold for another…

Of a child for his parent…of a father for his son.
Losing a parent changes you forever.

You don’t become an adult or grow up when you reach a certain age…or when you marry.

Or when you become a parent yourself.

No.

You grow up.
Overnight.
When you lose a parent.

Suddenly you are an orphan.

Bereft of the guidance and wise words that you always took for granted.
Words that were just a phone call or a visit away.
Believing that this would last forever..

That they were immortal.

Don’t all children?

You are burdened with guilt. At all that was left unsaid and undone.
At promises that were still to be kept..

The guilt is natural..you have lost a part of yourself.
Of your heart.

And then just like that in the middle of it all, you remember the best parts.
Those memories that make you smile.
The guffaws, the laugh that was childlike, the happy acceptance of everyone and everything.
The vast social network he had.
The impulsive , from the heart decisions that were such a part of him.

 

 

His always raring to go energy and his extraordinary social spirit that epitomized who he was.

Glimpses of which I see in his son.

And  his eldest grandson. Our firstborn.

 

 

The way he was ever ready to help anyone in need.
The way he never ever held a grudge.
How his heart was the softest of anyone you knew.

The way he held his grandson, our firstborn gently in his arms.

Awkward about exactly how he should hold this tiny, fragile being but unwilling to let go of this precious moment.

Grinning with happiness.

The way he treasured his wife. His soulmate.

Always keeping his promises and fulfilling all of her wishes.

And most of all, the way he was a friend more than a father to all his children.
I watch from the sidelines…

Because no matter what, no matter how big or small my sadness, it cannot compare to that of those who were a part of him.
By blood.

I watch as each member grieves in his or her own way.

No one can even begin to understand this raw grief.

It’s like an open festering wound. A gaping hole in your heart and in your life.

It is a void that can never be filled.
And I know that the fact that I can still put so many emotions in words and write them down says so much.

Because I have not lost a parent.

A father.

They have.

Because when you lose a parent, you won’t be able to write.
Or talk.
Or breathe.
Or live.

You will just drag yourself from one day to the next.
At least till the grief is a dull ache in some corner of your heart.
Because it never really goes away.
This grief.

So I write.

Because I have not lost a parent.

My soulmate has.

These words are for him.

For the man I married. The one who has lost his anchor.

Hoping that maybe in some way, however small, these words will give solace to his heart.

 

 

Grief comes in waves.

All we can hope to do for our devastated soulmates is to hold onto them when the next wave comes.

 

Conversations..

June 1, 2020

“When he grows up, ”
I say referring to my younger one , “I will go back to work too”.
My elder son immediately stops everything he is doing.
His ears perk up.

“You worked?”
“Like dad?”
“Where? But how?”

His mind is buzzing with a million questions and his mouth forms a wonderous O.

I laugh at his expression.

Amused and a little embarrassed or maybe uncomfortable that he should have thought of his mother as being permanently at home.

But then he has never seen me going out.
Not for work at least.

“Yes, I worked”.
I sit with him trying to control my laughter.
Because that offends him like nothing else.
Laughter at anything he says.

His sense of self is developing and growing.

And then after answering many breathless questions , out of all the jobs that his mom held, the one that held his attention was ….

“Teacher?
Like Shobhana ma’am?”

He grins when I nod in affirmation.

This is the ultimate job in the world according to his young ‘in love with his class teacher ‘ heart.

The whole day he sings and hums, clutching this thought to his heart .

Sometimes, the pieces you had lost, come back to you, floating on a young child’s dreams:)

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