It’s been almost four months since you left. I’m sure it must be quite evident to you how they’ve been for me. God has also put the cherry on the cake, recently. So instead of allowing it to crack me up, I am hell bent on proving your astrologer (you and your son went to), your shrink, your genes and your family wrong. There’s a reason I got to witness your life and especially your mental illness because I was supposed to learn from it and not let it destroy me.

Your passing has made me a darpok. Everything scares me these days- sleeping in the basement, the siren of an ambulance and other human beings more than ever. Never in the history of me, have I been able to see through some people more clearly and never has it made me more sick to my stomach. It’s a sign I need to work on myself. I’m trying and some people have been nice enough to volunteer their healing services but I just can’t get my guard down. Your loss and the onslaught after that has turned what they called ‘walls that no one can penetrate’ into a fortress with a sign that says, ‘no one is welcome!’ You can imagine what pleasing company I make. The one’s who have stuck around and checked on me relentlessly despite everything, I feel an intense gratitude towards.

After months I laughed really hard yesterday, on what was being said and more than that on myself. I was talking to a friend and she suggested I should talk to you know who. Whatever, she was saying was just hilarious but other than that my own stupidity about how I have conducted my love life for the past sixteen years, just stared at me in the face. I realised my life can not be turned into a tragic novel rather a stand up piece. Roast! It’s a sign, I got to slap myself into action, soon.

I struggle without you. The house is painfully quiet. I miss your yelling, ‘diya mera gheeya, meri beti aaja! Yeh mujhe tang kar rahaa he, please mujhe baccha le!’ I miss hugging you, kissing you, cuddling you! I miss hearing, ‘ hai hai chipkoo, hat ja!’ I miss holding your hand, with all those rings. By the way, I tried wearing one for half a day, uff. How do women manage to do anything, wearing all that? Beats me. Thanks for all the stuff you’ve been collecting for me since I was an infant. Very thoughtful but unfortunately your daughter doesn’t play, dress up very often. I’ll try, I promised since nothing pleased you more. Anyway, don’t worry about us, your husband and I get along just fine by staying away from each other. I’ve stopped reacting ( which you know for me is close to impossible); I use Dustu’s technique- less interaction and point to point conversation.

You and dusty spoilt me, with all the love and attention you constantly demanded. I’m so used to the delusion of you guys needing me, that I can’t wrap my head around not being responsible for somebody else. It’s all I heard ever since I was little, ‘take care of your brother he needs you’ and when dustu passed away, I was supposed to take care of you. I did a shitty job ofcourse, you both died early! But that’s all I’ve known. Henceforth, picking up the pieces and making decisions purely for myself, is a total paradigm shift. It should be liberating, na! I don’t know why my imagination fails me. Don’t worry it will just take some time, and alot of work but I’ll get there. I have my books and your spirit, to keep me safe.