My father passed away recently. He was the first loved person I lost in life. Sometimes I have to fight the anger in having the person I love most be the first person I lose to death, but I’ve mostly accepted it for how it is.
I remember the night of my father’s death. I remember the sorrow and depression that made it so hard to even breathe. I remember signing so many documents that I could hardly even read through the tears that kept coming. I remember people buffeting me with questions from all sides till my head swam and my hands shook. I remember my best friend, for whom I am grateful and feel blessed to have, sitting quietly by my side late in the night, listening to me sob and rage.
It was a terrible experience for all of us and the following days after his passing were saddening and absolutely stressful. Losing a loved one is not a quiet affair. You don’t get to sit in a corner whilst everyone leaves you to your grief like you see in the movies. I spent most of my time smiling and easing other people’s pain. The need for solitude was something no one could seem to respect. Everyone’s well-meaning efforts turned into invasive gestures. My siblings and I have never lost someone so close to us and we were mostly adrift, not knowing that there were so many rules that one had to follow. Who made these rules? Who decreed that etiquette should still rule when you’ve lost someone so great? Losing someone should give you the right to waive all of this rubbish. People shouldn’t blame you if you decide to draw curtains and lock doors.
I thought I was over this already but obviously I still have a lot of anger in me about the days that followed my father’s passing. I think I’m mostly bitter about not having been able to mourn him as I wanted to. I had planned to post my eulogy but will do so instead on another day.
I’ve forgotten how cathartic the process of writing/typing things down can be.
