A son’s emotional journey of coping with grief after his father’s demise and his reflections on the lessons he learned

Writing on your death anniversary is the most abstruse task for me because your thoughts and memories flow endlessly in my mind like a running stream. How can I record and repeat your honourable life in a few pages? Every act and thought that you left behind is so valuable and cherishable that I can’t express the feelings and emotions that arise in my heart. I still grapple and combat with the reality of your loss, that you left me and entered heaven, leaving me here in this hell. Realities are so bitter. They destabilize our dreams, plunder our joys, and hurl us headlong into circumstances that are brutal, unimaginable, and unmanageable.

Without you, life seems tough and confronts me every day with new challenges and chances. The responsibilities have gathered strength and overburdened me. I have had to play every role that you did but left incomplete because of your passing. Your daughters often say that I am like their father in thoughts and feelings. I take care of them like you did, or better than you, as they confess. I take care of Mom and don’t let her feel that she lost her other half and is incomplete. For me, the world has been reduced to her well-being and joy.

You don’t know, but after you, I suffered, and I suffered very badly. I had to shoulder greater responsibilities than my age and experience, but I happily bore them and executed them properly. I got your youngest daughter married and built a new home for Mom. I purchased a plot of land as well. I have taken Mom’s arthritis into consideration and consulted the best possible doctors for her. She takes medicine every day and feels better. She is happy but wants me to get married soon. I am her youngest son and am still unmarried. Once I told her that I wanted to wait a little longer to settle down, but she wept and said that it was her last wish to see me married so that she could die peacefully when the time arrived. She said she would not feel at peace after death if I were still unmarried when her time comes.

I want to give her all the facilities that elderly people need so that she remains healthy. We are only two family members, living for each other. Her elder three sons were selfish and opportunistic, leaving her alone after getting married and building their own homes. I actually helped construct their houses, and they now live with their families. But we, the mother-son family, are happy and live peacefully. I go to work in the morning and return by 4 o’clock. Mom stays at home and waits for my return. We feel blessed to have all the amenities of life.

The most blessed part for me is when I leave for work, and she raises her hands and says many prayers for my safety and progress. I know God loves mothers and listens to and fulfils their prayers and supplications. I feel so elated and complete when I hear her prayers for me. I discharge all the responsibilities that you used to handle. I visit my sisters once a week to check on their well-being and ask if they need anything. I recently bought new cell phones for them and told them to take anything they needed from my home without hesitation. I love them all. I love my mom. I love having a nice family. I love having people around to look after me. I know living for others is more worthwhile than living for oneself. I want each of them to be happy and healthy. Whenever they visit my home, I feel euphoric. I sit in front of them and listen to their tales about my father. They often talk about him and discuss things I don’t know because, when my father died, I was not mature. I was like a kid and was not serious about anything.

My mom often says that I wept bitterly after his death and didn’t stop until she approached me and said that if I didn’t stop, I would see her dead as well. She said she couldn’t bear to see me weeping so bitterly. She stopped me, hugged me, and sat me beside her among the women mourners. She still says that my weeping broke her heart more than the loss of her husband. She loves me, and I love her a lot too. Thank God we have returned to normalcy after Dad’s death, but his absence is still felt, and it draws bloody tears from our eyes.

By Fida Hussain Bhat

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