In it, I talked about life having an expiry date. At that time, a series of small events highlighted mortality and sent me a strong reminder that our time on this planet is limited. Little did I realize that the post was almost a premonition of what was to come.
I lost my father on June 21, 2012.
A few days after I wrote that last post, my father was rushed to the hospital and almost a month to that date, he passed away.
Wow. I think it's the first time I've actually written those words. I've opened this blog to write many times since that heartbreaking day, and the words just never formed. But there they are -- real as this computer screen staring back at me.
Yes, death is real and it will eventually touch us all. However, no one can know how or when it will happen. As desperate as we may be to look into the future to try and figure how it will all turn out, the truth is we just won't know what's been designed for us until it happens.
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| Image courtesy of Pinterest.com |
I never imagined that we'd lose him the way we did. For nearly a month we had to live hour by hour while he was in the hospital. On some days we lived minute by minute. Sitting here, just about three months since that day, I'm trying to pinpoint the moment when I knew he was fading. And I can't do it. The entire journey that led to his passing wasn't stable. It wasn't consistent. And we're still struggling with so many unanswered questions. But as I was often told in the days since he passed, 'When it's your time, it's your time.'
(Not comforting words, fyi.)
The three months since has passing have been a blur. I didn't imagine the impact this would have on my family and I. People who've experienced such a tremendous loss in their lives often say that they become numb in the aftermath. I never knew what emotional numbness felt like until this experience.
Everyone deals with grief differently -- denial, anger, inconsolable hysteria, silence. For my part, I've been trying to stay busy. Absorbed in work and holding on to moments where I don't have to be alone with my thoughts. I hang on to anything that lets me ignore my own reality. I'm coasting. Numbness -- I now know what it feels like. My choices probably aren't the healthiest, but it's what I need for now.
I'm not sure what the next few months will have in store for all of us. I keep thinking about how he died exactly five months to the day of his birthday. Appropriate enough, I suppose -- he always enjoyed symmetry. My mum refers to losing him as a void that we're unable to fill. She's right. Life, moving forward, will now be without him.
No matter your relationship, nothing can ever prepare you for the emotional turmoil that stems from losing a parent. But it's part of living, I suppose. And an experience like this certainly shifts perspective, makes you reorganize your priorities and look at life differently.
And now that I've found some words (finally), I hope I'll be able to write more. Share more. Acknowledge what has happened. Look towards the future. And I hope that the fog of the past few months will eventually lift.
**Thank you to all our friends and family who've stepped up and shown us support during these past few months. Thank you for your love, thank you for your strength, and thank you for your wishes of peace. We're lucky to have you all in our lives.**
Till next time,
Simi
