Remembering my grief.

I was writing a different post today something which brings faith back in love but something happened that I am shaken deeply and writing this one instead leaving the earlier one half finished in drafts. Will complete soon but don’t know when. I have some more topics roaming in mind, piping up to turn out on paper.

So the reason behind this sudden post is, death of am person whom I used to see daily. Very humble human being,  helping nature, a caring husband, a good father. He was none other than a friend 84 my father in law living in the same apartment as us. I know some of you might think why am I so touchy by his demise? Actually one reason I already told the other being more surprising to me. Actually till now I thought that I am completely dead inside and up till now I did experience that empty feeling very strongly. 

But the moment the dead body came and the daughter started to cry and lost the control over her grief and was hysterical I felt blurryness in my eyes and by the moment I could realise I was shaking and warm tears were rolling down my cheeks. I didn’t feel shaken at least not more then a sad image of my mom crying at my father’s death. But this daughter who was all over her father’s body crying and yelling asking him to wake up, questioning him how could he leave her like that, though her husband was holding her and support g her. But the love of a daughter was not to be controlled. 

When my father died I was not able to see him but all relatives who were there were not telling me anything about him. Later when in the emergency unit I came to know of his death I only remember one sharp shriek in my ears and fainting and that was it. We returned home. Next when his body came home I was the last one allowed to be near it. I did cry holding his feet laying my head once only on his chest as ask him to comeback but then I was asked to go in, though everyone else was around.

After that I couldn’t even sob for my grief. Because if I did so my mom would be more distressed and my younger brother would be broken my old grandma she was already a statue of grief, who lost her son before her eyes. So I had to keep calm on my face and cry inside. I had to look after them and to take care of every ceremony all small things that were to take place. So I didn’t get chance to cry over my loss, my loss of father’s love. A king in daughter’s world, the most richest man, the loving figure, her first love or all that can be defined came to an end. The first hard reality that struck me was that safety, security everything I felt in his presence was gone all of a sudden. I was left alone in the crowd to experience the tight slaps if time and this cruel world. But all these my fears and concerns I could not share with anyone. I did not get the chance or rather was not given one. All the emotional support mom and brother needed to fight this was to be driven through me as I was the eldest of the two and my brother had no practical knowledge of how the things work when you’re on your own. He is a good learner and if he was not, time made him one. He learnt how to take care of everything. Like the only breaderner of the family, who had to get his elder sister married in the way same as their father would have done and then take care of an ailing mother, like no other son could have done in his place.

But by the time they got strong enough, it was too late to show my grief and again mom would feel miserable seeing me like that and brother who was doing more than others in his age, would feel his fault that he is not able to take care properly. So that was it, I locked up all my pain and loss inside a deep corner of my heart and now and then, when no body knows or I am not able to control I shed a few tears for my papa. But today I am relieved to know that I am still alive somewhere to dome extent, my depression has not killed me all…so may be there is hope for everything to get better in life, though I hope not.