Day 211: The stench of loss #346daysofgratitude


Now in the hundreds and thousands of faces that you will pass by in your entire life, there are some you would walk past with absolute disinterest and some that you would want to catch another glimpse of because they remind you of a certain place or person. Sometimes when that happens you find yourself stopping in your tracks and flashbacks of those distant memories start crawling in and eventually it takes over you.

The world stops for a second. Footsteps and voices murmur. The silence becomes strikingly apparent and deafening. The life turns lifeless. Flowers wilt and the leaves fall from the trees. The body stops working. Lids are closed and prayers are heard. Vows are said and commitments are sworn. Babies are born and the old dies. The boiler stops rattling. The coffee turns cold.

The stench of loss is still fresh, achingly raw and pungent; but the earth somehow, inexplicably, turns still. Trains and cars start moving. The boiler rattles. Flowers bloom. The waves return to the shore. Somewhere in another country it starts to rain. Footsteps turn rusty and chattering voices resume. In a sheer second, things change.

Still, the heart aches.

Not a good piece of writing, but enough for me to put half of the emotions I felt. My language is far from good and I'm not a good writer myself, but I'd like to express more by writing because I find myself relating to it so well on an emotional level.

So few days ago I entered this restaurant and was waiting for the food to be ready for a takeaway. One of the workers came out of the kitchen, made eye contact with me and smiled. Somehow, he reminded me of my dad. Not that they looked anything similar in any way, but the sense of familiarity I felt was ineffable.

I stopped for a second and flashbacks loomed in. I saw my dad. I saw myself laughing with him, hugging him, holding his hands and feeding him when we were at the hospital. I saw him cracking his jokes and pulling funny faces like he always did. I remember how much they used to crack me up.
I felt a lump in my throat as I fought back the tears. I was choked with emotions. Even though they were once-upons, they felt so recent and achingly raw.

 It aches. A lot. Terribly.

They say that time heals all wounds, and if that's the truth - I wonder how long it will take for me to be healed. As the pages of the calendar flip, I wonder how much more time I would need to take to heal.

The other night my friend asked me if I missed my dad. "Do you miss him?" I replied "yes" - but there were so much more I wanted to say. So much more I could have said. That I miss him, a hell lot, more than anyone could imagine. And that it hurts a lot when I think about him each day, and my heart still wrenches. That I miss him more than just him. I miss seeing his smile, his funny faces and I miss hearing his voice, and I miss holding his hands. I miss talking to him, and I miss being in his embrace. I miss having a dad and I miss having someone to look up to. I miss his presence.

I don't think anyone would fully understand what it feels like to lose a dad at the age of 14, what it feels like to lose someone you hold so dearly to and what it feels like to grow up without one. Most people would recognise the pain and sympathise, but no one would really know how it actually feels like to be that person.

All I can say that the stench of loss is still fresh, and very apparent. Seasons may have changed and cycles may have repeated, minutes may have gone by, the weather may have gotten colder, people may come and go, but it's still the same every year.

I miss you.

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