Every morning I wake up, hoping that this is just my childhood nightmare. That all the fears that I have imagined and fretted, over for the past two years haven’t manifested themselves and the reality will be different.
Yet, here we are, it’s real. As soon as ‘oh no shit, this is actually happening’, leaves my mind, let me be you, not like you but his son, stems up. So I start, the machine and it runs through the day, making sure everything remains intact. It’s tough, shouldering the responsibility of being a man. When all the employees look at my face and search for answers, I realize I’m not a sick man’s daughter but the son of a man who has spent forty years working, who has lost you and if I ain’t going to keep it going, he’ll feel, you would have never let him down. No wonder, men remain so stoic. They can’t afford to breakdown when all eyes are on them, searching for answers, looking for the direction to move in. I always wondered, why the sons weren’t the ones sitting outside the ICU. They are the ones ensuring everything is running smoothly, providing for everyone and not losing their minds.
The funny thing is, irrespective of how much I try, I fail miserably-at all of it!