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This Was Where I Began

I think there's a sentiment between life and death. We count the time of what's left on most of the things, but when it comes to them, we count of what's been passed. On ageing, we don't think about the time that we have left in this world, but we celebrate yet another year that we've passed. And in the death of the loved ones, I do not count the time that was left behind, but I count the things and days that I've managed to survive. His birthday, my birthday, her birthday, their graduation, the first day, half a year, a year and a half and so on. 

After he passed away, I often think about the 26 years 5 months 24 days 11 hours and 3 minutes that he was fully mine. I replay his voice in my head like a broken record as if it's the last thing that I was holding on to. I think about the trace of memories that was left by the time we had together. I think about him, his presence and his absence. He made me. He affected all my being with his absence and his presence. Countless things and concepts and definitions and feelings - all that I've ever known, changed in a blink of an eye just like that. I remember the first week that we started learning to live without him. After the funeral, I sneaked out and I took a walk to the paddy field track that we went to together one time. 

I parked my bike under the same coconut tree where he parked the car two years before that. I took a look around and suddenly I was angry that it's as if the world didn't even realize that he's gone. As if he's never been here. I was angry for nothing. I was angry at something I don't understand. That's when I started counting. I let him go. Not just because he belonged to me, but also because he never belonged to me at the same time. I believe in God. And I believe that there's a power above all of us that reserves the right to everything in this life. And so my dad has always belonged to him rightfully so. 

This was where I began. I started the count. Another day to pass. Another time to carry on. Another second to live on. I count the day that I've passed in what's left of my time in this world. The concept of time and age are always a wonder to me. We live forward in what's left of our time. And maybe, just maybe, the parallel hall between life and death is nowhere but inside our heart. If there's a place that I can still meet my dad, it will be that space when I remember him the most. The space when I miss him the most. The space when I just want to hear his voice. And I believe that he would feel the same. In this room of longing, we will always meet. 

3 comments:

  1. This was beautiful. <3

    Sending my love. x

    ReplyDelete
  2. This was beautiful and really touched my heart.
    I lost my dad when I was 15 and it was the worst day of my life. I miss him everyday and especially on those milestone days (graduation, my wedding, when I have kids one day...) but I know he's here in spirit and watching over his loved ones.

    I will be keeping you in my thoughts!

    ReplyDelete

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