Every time I wanted to write this, I couldn't bring myself to. Where do I even start? My father was never the perfect man. But he was the best I had. Had....he passed away last month. And it cuts and guts me.
My father battled liver disease and it's related complications. We still don't know how or when the disease started. From diagnosis to death, he fought long and hard. I am so proud of him. He almost lost himself and then, just when my family thought we were losing him, he would open those tired eyes and give a tiny smile. He was in the ICU for 8 long days. It was torture for him and just as much torture for us to watch him. We saw a healthy man reduced to the size of a small boy in those 8 days. Watching him fight a losing battle and to see how he deteriorated in that small span of time, will never leave me. When he was ready to go, we were all there.
It's unbelievable that he is gone. It breaks my soul, my heart that from now on, when I go home, I won't hear his voice, see him walk around. I won't be seeing his goofy grin or hear him laugh. He will not be reading his newspapers on that sofa or lying down on the same sofa watching TV. Just the idea that a person who has been so instrumental in making and shaping me and my sister, is gone! Vanished! Silence....
I wish for so many things. I hope I told him how I much loved him and repeated that enough so that he understood and remembered. That I can see him once more the way he was before he got diagnosed and to hug him and to have another laugh at "Editor-at-Large".
I miss him so much. I pray daily that he be in a good place and be happy wherever he is.
Acha, if you are out there and are reading this somehow, don't worry about a thing. Everything is going to be fine. I am standing outside that door, that big blue door. I am waiting right outside.....
