Everyone goes through events that change their life. I have had a fair share of mine. Moving to a new city, getting a new job, failed relationships, broken friendships - you name it. Nothing quite comes close to the death of someone from the innermost circle.
I lost my uncle yesterday. But he was not just an uncle to me - he was a second father, the grandfather I never had, the friend who was always there for me, the teacher that schools could never offer. To my father, he was all of that and much more. A gem of a person, loved and cherished by everyone who ever knew him. Yesterday was the first time I ever felt grief in its truest and deepest sense.
When I was told about what happened, I was shocked, in disbelief, unable to process what I'd just heard. I was not ready. Nobody is ever truly ready. But I came to terms with it - not like I had any choice, anyway. We left home in the dead of night, wide awake but lost in thought. The journey was ten hours long, dominated by deafening silence, broken only when memories of my uncle were rekindled by something on the way. I was still calm and composed, not yet emotionally invested in it.
The mood at my uncle's place was not something I was used to - it was melancholic. I have been emotionally challenged for over 10 years, not really reacting appropriately or reading the room right. Yesterday was different. Entering the room to see my aunt, a total wreck, staring at my uncle's lifeless body was not something I was ready for. I was overcome by a deep sadness and longing, and as I hugged my aunt, felt my first tears in over a decade roll down my face. My father, ever so stable, broke down and wept uncontrollably. He was a rock even when his own father and, much later, his brother died. Such was the impact my uncle had in our lives.
As I stood there, I was slowly losing my grip on science and reason. I looked at his arms, his feet, his chest, searching for the slightest movement, a breath, a twitch. Hoping for a miracle so I can scream to the world that he's still alive. Hoping that this was all just an elaborate ruse. It was not. I was not ready.
Grief takes you by surprise, twists your insides, turns your life upside down and makes you question your beliefs. Grief can be suffocating. It will crush you and make your heart heavy. But it will pass. It always does. It also teaches you valuable life lessons as it parts.
Today, once again, I have come to terms with it. Life goes on. A certain hole no one can ever fill takes its place in my innermost circle as my life enters an uncharted territory. Mama, you will be missed. I take forward with me everything you have taught me. I think I will be okay.
I lost my uncle yesterday. But he was not just an uncle to me - he was a second father, the grandfather I never had, the friend who was always there for me, the teacher that schools could never offer. To my father, he was all of that and much more. A gem of a person, loved and cherished by everyone who ever knew him. Yesterday was the first time I ever felt grief in its truest and deepest sense.
When I was told about what happened, I was shocked, in disbelief, unable to process what I'd just heard. I was not ready. Nobody is ever truly ready. But I came to terms with it - not like I had any choice, anyway. We left home in the dead of night, wide awake but lost in thought. The journey was ten hours long, dominated by deafening silence, broken only when memories of my uncle were rekindled by something on the way. I was still calm and composed, not yet emotionally invested in it.
The mood at my uncle's place was not something I was used to - it was melancholic. I have been emotionally challenged for over 10 years, not really reacting appropriately or reading the room right. Yesterday was different. Entering the room to see my aunt, a total wreck, staring at my uncle's lifeless body was not something I was ready for. I was overcome by a deep sadness and longing, and as I hugged my aunt, felt my first tears in over a decade roll down my face. My father, ever so stable, broke down and wept uncontrollably. He was a rock even when his own father and, much later, his brother died. Such was the impact my uncle had in our lives.
As I stood there, I was slowly losing my grip on science and reason. I looked at his arms, his feet, his chest, searching for the slightest movement, a breath, a twitch. Hoping for a miracle so I can scream to the world that he's still alive. Hoping that this was all just an elaborate ruse. It was not. I was not ready.
Grief takes you by surprise, twists your insides, turns your life upside down and makes you question your beliefs. Grief can be suffocating. It will crush you and make your heart heavy. But it will pass. It always does. It also teaches you valuable life lessons as it parts.
Today, once again, I have come to terms with it. Life goes on. A certain hole no one can ever fill takes its place in my innermost circle as my life enters an uncharted territory. Mama, you will be missed. I take forward with me everything you have taught me. I think I will be okay.
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| Heroes always get remembered but you know legends never die. |
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