Day 1303: When Dad Left for his Maker

This past year has been one of amends. One I am partially proud of. One you’d never be proud of. Drastic changes always had you in knots. But that’s what life has been all about lately. Am I sad all this is happening? No. Am I happy? No. But that’s for best sometimes!

I thought about it for the longest time. What would you say had you been around? I know you would’ve stopped talking to me altogether. The few calls we had would’ve died too. Even my name would be an ear-sore for months. You would make excuses to not see me, and avoid me as much as you could. I know all this. Because I knew you too well. Because you knew me better yet.

My ways are not for this world, and yet we are here to stay. Your motto. My ways are not for this world, and yet I’m rooting for a change. My motto. I don’t think I ever enjoyed challenging typical mindsets with anyone other than you. You’d get upset to the point of being furious. You’d drive me mad with your words and we’d have heated rows. Eventually, you’d give up or I’d cave in and cold days followed. Did I enjoy it? No. Did I feel content? Yes.

More often, of late, I’ve been thinking about disappearing. Just like you did. Gone with the wind. You had no choice, but leave. I wonder what I can do with mine. Do we ever have a choice? I don’t think you can look back at things, and say, oh, I wish I had changed this. That chance long been snatched from you. What can I do, however, that I still have mine? But the more important question looking me in the face is – will I be proud of attempting that one final act of courage? or cowardice? I don’t know. Never will.

This is why I miss you right now. Thinking incessantly about what would you say. Hang on or let loose? What would you suggest? And what would your verdict be if I had to spring it on you as a much unexpected surprise? I am plagued by these thoughts, day and night. I pray for you to show up in my dreams one of these nights. Then you’ll probably talk to me tell me that you’ve read my thoughts, because you too house in my head. Perhaps, you’ll listen to me this once, patiently, not just hearing me out but understanding me. Maybe this once, we shall burn down those narrow bridges that suffocated us and build a new one that we shall cross together, to the realm of sanity.


P.S.: Dad, I found your diary, the one you’d wanted to burn. I know that was your wish. I’m sorry but I can’t.