The endlessness of time - its wily, ceaseless, choking vines propel me towards a slow, very slow culmination of yet another day. This Sunday, 30 September, 2012, is the seventh Sunday since my daddy passed away. It's all still very implausible, surreal, unbelievable... preposterous, almost!
Ever so often, I find myself sitting and staring into space; it's nice, comfortable, especially since I don't want to move. It takes a great amount of effort to fake a smile these days, but I manage to do it anyway. I doubt I can stand another talk about "the will of God" from well-meaning family and friends. No offence to anyone, really, except that each of us grieve differently, feel differently; there really is no one way of getting over the loss of a parent.
If I'm at home on a Sunday evening, and I usually am, I trace the minutes of 12 August, 2012. How well I remember my daddy walking out of our home, how well I remember his lemon shirt, how well I remember him asking me if I needed more money for my massage later that evening. If there was ever a time I felt pain squeeze at my heart, it's now, it has been since that day.
Some of the greatest spiritual leaders and philosophers maintained that the only things permanent on earth are life and death - everything in between is transitional, a mere illusion, maya! I agree for the most part, but besides life and death, I believe that love is another component that's permanent in an otherwise meaningless existence.
All the emotions that rule our lives during our time on earth are born from love. This pain, sorrow and sense of absolute loss that I feel now are also born from love, love for my daddy who I miss so very much. I talk to dad, tell him I love him, tell I miss, ask him for forgiveness... he and me, we have our conversations, conversations we never had while he was here.
See, in spite of knowing how short life is, I always believed in another tomorrow - another tomorrow to talk to him, another tomorrow to make things right, another tomorrow to buy him those macaroons... I just didn't expect that this another tomorrow wouldn't come at all, not in this world at least. What am I left with right now?
Let's see - for starters, I'm still reeling from the shock of his sudden, untimely departure. For all my spiritual leanings, THIS does not seem right, in fact it seems like a nightmare, a nightmare I'm willing myself to wake up from. I slap myself, pinch myself, pull my hair, all in an effort to wake up, but I am still seemingly in the damn nightmare. And, if this is in fact my life now, then the magnanimity of this loss shall surely engulf me, of that I'm sure.
But somehow, in spite of it all, I find myself being carried - I may feel like my head is under the water, but I am still being carried.
Today, I was going through a landslide of emotions, all of loss, pain, despair. I find that every waking moment of mine is spent thinking of my daddy while I simultaneously continue to fulfill the other mundane tasks that are essential to life. Sleep, sleep is only level of consciousness that soothes me... at least a little. I see my daddy in my dreams, my nana, I see them smile and that reassures me that they're happy in their world; they're watching us, protecting us, guiding us and loving us in ways and depths that are unfathomable to our limited human heart and mind.
Indeed, dreams are very often messengers, quiet little commissionaires of a hidden world. A place of solace that saves me from an otherwise painful, painful existence; a place I meet my nana, my daddy, both of whom tell me that they're with me always. The only reason I look forward to another tomorrow is because I know that I'll meet my daddy and nana before tomorrow dawns... and every so often, I hope, just hope that my dreams will be never ending ones.... beyond many other tomorrows...
Ever so often, I find myself sitting and staring into space; it's nice, comfortable, especially since I don't want to move. It takes a great amount of effort to fake a smile these days, but I manage to do it anyway. I doubt I can stand another talk about "the will of God" from well-meaning family and friends. No offence to anyone, really, except that each of us grieve differently, feel differently; there really is no one way of getting over the loss of a parent.
If I'm at home on a Sunday evening, and I usually am, I trace the minutes of 12 August, 2012. How well I remember my daddy walking out of our home, how well I remember his lemon shirt, how well I remember him asking me if I needed more money for my massage later that evening. If there was ever a time I felt pain squeeze at my heart, it's now, it has been since that day.
Some of the greatest spiritual leaders and philosophers maintained that the only things permanent on earth are life and death - everything in between is transitional, a mere illusion, maya! I agree for the most part, but besides life and death, I believe that love is another component that's permanent in an otherwise meaningless existence.
All the emotions that rule our lives during our time on earth are born from love. This pain, sorrow and sense of absolute loss that I feel now are also born from love, love for my daddy who I miss so very much. I talk to dad, tell him I love him, tell I miss, ask him for forgiveness... he and me, we have our conversations, conversations we never had while he was here.
See, in spite of knowing how short life is, I always believed in another tomorrow - another tomorrow to talk to him, another tomorrow to make things right, another tomorrow to buy him those macaroons... I just didn't expect that this another tomorrow wouldn't come at all, not in this world at least. What am I left with right now?
Let's see - for starters, I'm still reeling from the shock of his sudden, untimely departure. For all my spiritual leanings, THIS does not seem right, in fact it seems like a nightmare, a nightmare I'm willing myself to wake up from. I slap myself, pinch myself, pull my hair, all in an effort to wake up, but I am still seemingly in the damn nightmare. And, if this is in fact my life now, then the magnanimity of this loss shall surely engulf me, of that I'm sure.
But somehow, in spite of it all, I find myself being carried - I may feel like my head is under the water, but I am still being carried.
Today, I was going through a landslide of emotions, all of loss, pain, despair. I find that every waking moment of mine is spent thinking of my daddy while I simultaneously continue to fulfill the other mundane tasks that are essential to life. Sleep, sleep is only level of consciousness that soothes me... at least a little. I see my daddy in my dreams, my nana, I see them smile and that reassures me that they're happy in their world; they're watching us, protecting us, guiding us and loving us in ways and depths that are unfathomable to our limited human heart and mind.
Indeed, dreams are very often messengers, quiet little commissionaires of a hidden world. A place of solace that saves me from an otherwise painful, painful existence; a place I meet my nana, my daddy, both of whom tell me that they're with me always. The only reason I look forward to another tomorrow is because I know that I'll meet my daddy and nana before tomorrow dawns... and every so often, I hope, just hope that my dreams will be never ending ones.... beyond many other tomorrows...
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