#6. Letter to my Papa

I wish I didn’t feel this, but I do. I feel like I’m not talking to you, but to myself. It’s the same feeling I got when I was desperately pleading for God to save you and that I would do anything.

Then everything went silent.

Lost my faith right there.

I desperately search for signs. Whenever I see the tiniest one, it comforts me. Usually the signs are through electronic devices malfunctioning. To be honest I yearn for stronger signs. I only tend to get these signs soon after a loved one departs but nothing in the years after.

How I wish science hadn’t disrupted my faith. That innocent trusting mind now introduced to doubt. Now requiring evidence. I need religion as my crutch sorry atheists. It’s such a struggle because now I can’t make myself believe. And I want to and need to so badly. It would be such a haven. I do see the divine in those around me though.

I actually have no closure as they call it. No matter how it happened I don’t think I ever would.

It seemed exceptionally cruel that it happened on the day you were supposed to return. After I had been missing you and looking forward so much to your arrival.

I’d never been separated from you for that long before and since then I regret ever letting that happen.

I tried to stop you from going and you even admitted you were reluctant to go, didn’t really want to go, but that tickets had already been bought. It was partly obligation.

You waved bye so sweetly at the airport and for quite long it seemed, with your beautiful smile that I should have cherished more.

I was so worried that your bag would be too heavy for you. I was worried, but still I expected you would be back to tell me a million stories.

My feelings the first few months? Papa, it just felt like you went on a trip and never returned and now I don’t know your destination and you had no way to contact me. It was excruciating. Not being able to hug you or care for you or know that you’re ok. I feel so sorry for you. In a way you turned into a baby to me. So vulnerable. My brain couldn’t process how my smiling vibrant Papa is not with me right now.

With the years, the brain helps to bury the deepest pain and adapt. I was filled with rage also for a long while. I just wanted to be left alone. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. It comes with the depression and so many negative changes in my life. It was like one thing went wrong after another – a domino effect.

I’m so much better now. They say you don’t ever recover, but you just learn how to cope. That was the most comforting thing anyone told me following the loss. Other comments like “you have to be strong”, “you need to move on”, just filled me with pain. So thank you to my lecturer who showed me so much empathy (was in the midst of my postgraduate course then) and shared that he too had lost his dad so he understood how hard it was. Now I feel a kindred spirit with others who have suffered similar loss and just wish I could erase their pain. It doesn’t matter what your age is. Loss is loss. And I’m so deeply sorry for your pain.

About bookjunkie

Blogging about life in Singapore & recently cancer too.
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