Day 282: When Dad left for his Maker

Imagining life without someone, when have we ever given that a thought? I was the same. But with you gone, life has taken an unexpected turn. I am now looking at things, I never gave a thought. I am reminiscing over events, that once craved my attention. I am lusting for certain aches, that once felt foreign. I am groping for memories, that have slipped through my fingers. I am chasing loves, I never knew existed.

Why does it have to be like this?

More than once, I have thought about it. What if I had to end this pain? But that I have realized is impossible. 9months 9 days is supposed to be a long time. But why does it feel it was only yesterday you crossed over? I bleed afresh with raw wounds, even today, and I try, try in vain, to hide them because no one around wants to see me bleeding. They cringe at the sight of them. An awkward silence envelops the air around me upon the mention of you, and my heart begins to weep again. Why is it that people don’t want to talk about the ones who’ve left and gone? Why are they so eager to have you wipe them out of your life, out of your memories?

Why does grief feel like a social taboo?

I pretend, and now I am tired of pretending too. How can life move on at a pace such as nothing really happened? There are gaping holes around, in the skies above, in the grounds underneath my feet, in the air I breathe. Isn’t that why I feel choked, lost, empty, everywhere I look? Will those voids ever be filled? Who knows! I keep holding on to you, repeating your name, and in the space between sleep and dreams, you seem to be there. Because dad, trust me, without you, going on feels as stupid as chasing butterflies – you know you are never gonna get one and will be left feeling disappointed, in the end, but you chase nonetheless.

Why does ending it all feels like the only way out?


Asha Seth

8 Replies to “Day 282: When Dad left for his Maker”

  1. Oh, Asha, I know EXACTLY how you feel, but don’t ever give up…When my dear mother died, I thought I would die too. Even when my dad passed away before her, I didn’t feel such intense emotion. She was knocked over by an unregistered and faulty car and had been in a coma for six weeks before dying. During that time, I walked about like a zombie and then felt completely numb. Even during a nervous breakdown, I wanted to talk about her all the time – hoping she’d ‘reappear.’ It took me many months to accept her death, and now I keep her loving memory in my heart, and always will. Try to do the same as it will sustain you and keep your father close to you. Gradually, you should still feel the energy we all leave behind and will be able to recall the good times with a smile, and his love will always be with you. Thinking of you in your sad loss and wishing you an easier, happier life. Best wishes.Joy x


  2. Parents moved in with me in 2002. Mother passed 2012 so father still with me. He is 95 and in decent health for that age. I am dread the day to which you refer. The only remedy is to breathe in every moment now and cherish these moments now.


  3. Grief is the hardest blow to recover from. I think that people want everything to fine all the time even when it really isn’t and you need to let yourself feel sad. Please continue to write out your truth and thank you for sharing!


  4. Our society has a way of shunning the grief under the carpet, making the grieving person clueless about their emotions. People want you to move on, which is the most bizzare thing to ask someone whose life has been turned upside down. Its better you keep writing about your pain and your emotions in these pages. Hugs and love to you ❤ take care 🙂


  5. Oh, Asha, I am so sorry to hear this! I can so relate to your words & the pain. I still feel it to this day & wonder why no one wants to talk about the loved ones we miss. Please write about him & always know you can tell me about him! In case you don’t have it my email is ❤️❤️❤️

    Liked by 1 person

“I love writing. I love the swirl and swing of words as they tangle with human emotions.” ― James A. Michener

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