January 19th marked 8 months since my father died. January 10th was 8 months since my mother died. This journey of coming to terms with what life means now, without the presence of those who gave me life, has been an uphill battle.
Life, at least now, holds no joy.
I pretend. A lot. I pretend to act normal.
I am very mindful to keep my grief guarded so the person I am interacting with does not feel uncomfortable.
I dread going to bed.
I stay up as long as I can so when my head hits the pillow my mind does not race. I am truly terrified of nights and the solitude it brings when all hurtful feelings takeover.
I search a lot for answers and only find peace when I see beauty in nature.
It gives me solace to think that my parents’ energy is, perhaps, part of this beauty now. Or maybe their soul has been reborn in another body. Who knows?
On January 19th, as I sat quietly in the morning thinking about ma, baba and all the ‘why’s’, I saw this sunrise. And I thought “How fitting! Baba would have loved to see this. Maybe he is part of this beauty now. Maybe they both are part of this splendor.”
2 thoughts on “After 8 months”
Today is my father’s first death anniversary. I couldn’t sleep a wink last night. I too watched the sunrise amidst the snow fall, and prayed he is at peace wherever he was. A year without Baba – I miss him every minute and would give anything for a chance to have a chat with him.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I am holding you in my heart. ❤