Mourning the loss of a parent

After eighteen long days of battle with Covid-19, my father finally left this mortal world yesterday morning.

As an adult, if you are lucky to still have your parents around, worrying about parents’ health is in that long-list of adulthood worries. While I was in Bangalore, I worried about this day in and day out, picturing how it would be when something of this sort might happen.

It did happen, and happened in an unexpected manner. Very few people with Covid need to be hospitalized. Fewer still get a cytokine storm (lungs inflammation as the body’s response to the virus) in the third week of the disease. My father was among the choicest few. In the end, the man who always took deep breaths and did all sorts of physical exercise and yoga to stay fit, struggled for air in his lungs.

Our loss is permanent, but because we always knew this was a possibility since he was hospitalised, we are coping okay. Tears well up in the most minute of occasions, but we have learnt to wipe them and think of more positive things and distract ourselves.

As of now, our hearts are blameless. We have stopped going into loops of ifs and buts. We are telling ourselves that we did the best we could. Our father did the best he could. The doctors tried their hardest.

I sent out so many positive vibes to the Universe, but the Universe had other plans. You cannot dictate terms. We are so small in the grand scale of events. Once you remove yourself from the daily life and take yourself 9,000 feet above, you realise these are but minor blimps in the cosmic chain of events. Grief is temporary. Loss is permanent. Memories will sometimes make us smile and sometimes make us cry. Yet, while we are in the cycle of life, we just have to walk on: eat, breathe, sleep and hopefully help spread a little bit of positivity in the world.

If you’re reading this and are going through something yourself, I am hear to listen to you. Do feel free to reach out. I wish your good health and emotional resilience.