Writings By The Window

It’s been a while since I last updated my blog. A very strange month for me I would say… and I guess I had a bit of a mind block because I couldn't write at all until now. And by strange, I would be glad to say “in a good way”, but that would be a lie. 22^nd February is my dad’s death anniversary. So yes, it’s depressing as hell. As I’m writing this, I’m listening to Radical Face and an instrumental band called “Explosions in the Sky” and the music fits perfectly with my emotions. The silence of the city deep in slumber, the wind blowing across my face, the twinkling stars and the lonely moon hanging above my head and everything about the night that makes me wonder…. Oh how I wish for nothing else but to float in the vast, limitless expanse of the night sky, to forget about the hiccups of reality and just float there, even for just a short while! I might even catch a glimpse of my dad smiling at me somewhere among the celestial bodies. You never know.

My Dad - wild and young with  eager eyes - forever ago

My dad was a good, generous and hard working man. He loved me, though he was not very expressive in displaying his emotions, and I know he still does. Like all other human beings, he too had a weakness. He was a heavy drinker and his health was badly affected by it. He said he couldn't stop even if he wanted to because the urge inside him was impossible to resist. My parents divorced when I was a kid and I lived with my mother (I still do). Growing up, I didn't get to see my dad a lot and the occasional meet ups and visits were the only time I had with him. The music he listened to, the foods he liked, his hobbies, his passion, his joys and sorrows are all unknown to me. I don’t know what a dad’s hug or sympathy and compassion feels like. I do miss him…but sometimes I don’t even know how to miss him because I didn't know him like I’m supposed to. 

I do blame my dad’s addiction to alcohol for my parent’s divorce. But I don’t blame him nor will I ever blame him. He had problems and complications in his life and it’s sad to think alcohol was the only thing that could make him feel better. But I refuse to believe that his addiction was all that defined him. There was more to him than that…I know this for sure. For the world, he may be a drunken fool but for me, that doesn't mean he was less of a person. It just means that he made wrong choices, that he made mistakes and that he was only human. The only tragic thing is that he didn't learn from them until it was too late. I didn't attend his funeral as I was in the middle of a board examination when he passed away. I don’t know what he looked like on his last day on earth, what he wore or what his last words were. I don’t know the songs that were sung or the comforting words of the Pastor when his frail and lifeless body was laid beneath the ground to decay. 

His second wife died long before him and I was the only love of his life. It’s tormenting to think how lonely he must have felt sometimes, and especially on the day of his death since I was not there for him. Two years have passed but it still hurts me every time I think about it. The last time I saw him was when he was in the hospital.Though my studies were the most important thing for him, there are times when I regret my decision. But at the same time, I’m glad about the last image I hold of him. I was sitting on a hospital bed beside him and as we talked, he had this genuine smile on his face and in spite of the throbbing pain in his body, he seemed happy. That smile replays itself over and over again inside my head. That simple and humble smile…. I won’t forget it till the last breath of my life, nor will I trade this memory for anything in the world. 

I should be sad about him leaving this world for eternity. But the truth is, I’m not. I’m not happy that he’s dead. Infact I miss him with all my heart. Sometimes, I get this feeling that I would see his face among the crowd and other times, my eyes are searching for that. There is a permanent hole in my heart that longs for my father. It has been there ever since I was a child. But I feel like he has been liberated from the sorrows and disappointments of this fragile life and given a second chance for happiness and all the good things he deserves. We prayed for his recovery and for God to hear our cries. But he never recovered and he still died. I didn't understand back then, but now I do. 

Everything has its own time. And it was time for him to go back home. Had he been cured from his physical illness, a life of solitude awaited him and in no time, he would have gone back to drinking and the vicious circle of his misery would repeat itself again. God did answer our prayers, but in a different way. He heard our cries and act, not how we want, but according to his own perfect plan. Everything was the way it was supposed to be. My dad was saved from an eternal death. He was relieved from all the torment and sufferings of this world. After a long and winding struggle, he was finally free. Now, he is in a place where he belongs…and I hope he’s happy there. :) :)