Nil and the abyss

I realize that when you want to say something, all of your faculties have to work. All of mine did... Except my voice. It stopped functioning. The thoughts rallied in my head but they were like wispy clouds, refusing to get out of my head and system. All I could think of was... It does not happen this way. It does not happen this way. A part of me stood outside, registering how the others reacted to the news - friends, his daughter, and the old people who cursed themselves for being around when he was sucked away in just a moment. Why am I not crying? Why am I not reacting like it is shown on the screen? Why am I in a limbo?

The questions. Repeated reliving of what happened. Reliving? Is it therapeutic ? Maybe. But who wants therapy now?

 

The ulterior meanings behind the questions… Couldn't you have responded sooner? Couldn’t you have taken him to the emergency rather than the doctor first? Couldn’t you have saved time? Are you sure he did not complain of any pain the previous night?

Did you fight with him the previous night?

Searched for his name in my mailbox. Got all his mails, and the first one said you are a strong woman. First of his many indications maybe that he was ready to go...

First of his indications that he trusted my strength.

So many calls, so many people... But he is not around to see them come home, to take their calls.

He was a simple man…

I learnt spontaneity from him...

Too straightforward a person, that was him…

Genial smile always…

So many one liners, which would bring back a flood of memories…

I am stocking it all up. Hope I remember to tell him all this whenever I connect with him again.

Sitting in the insurance office. Someone told me it would help me cope with reality if I start attending to all the mundane formalities on my own... It is not happening. I am only feeling very sleepy.

Someone comes in to offer condolences and does not talk to me... Says she does not know me, so did not know what to say. So she grills my elderly father for the gory details. 

I told her to leave the place. Was I rude? I don't know.

He has the house swarming with people. He loved it.

His well-meaning relatives, who had faded from his life called to say, “Please give us permission to share your grief.” I said “no...”

Someone called to say maybe my horoscope was wonked up, so that is why he went.

I told the person at least give him the credit to have chosen what he wanted in this at least. Let him be the strong man who chose to decide what he wanted to do, why should he be made the victim of my ill luck?

Life goes on. The missing grows on you. Or does it?

Small, insignificant details where his absence hits the pit of my stomach and the pain is physical...  For no apparent reason tears suddenly appear when I least expect them... When I am driving and I pass a spot where we shared a moment, when I am reading something I want to read out to him, when I cook something he loved, the times when he is with me are endless... How do I miss him then?