This day last year, the doctors officially let us know my dad was no more. In many ways it was confirmation of a fact we were mentally preparing for. For days after questions lingered. The pain was sharp at times, the tears fast and furious. Anger alternated with grief. A few months passed, my sister got engaged. Every event associated with it was punctuated by “If only appa were here…”
I was holding on to grief as a way to holding on to appa. The days I felt down grew farther apart. Appa was a constant reminder in pleasant ways. Each cup of coffee perfectly brewed would remind me of him. Each time I saw raw guava appa came to mind. Any time anyone said “Bless you” I would be reminded of appa holding his hand near his face and saying “Bless you” with a smile on his face.
I longed to see appa in my dreams. Something to reassure me he was there at some level. On some plane not accessible to me. That never happened but I see him when I see my chitapa. Similar facial features. I see him when my brother swirls his coffee before he sips it. I see him in Sruthi. I see him in my mom’s eyes. People around me remind me of Appa more than I could ever dream of.
This past week when my sister looked breathtakingly beautiful in her kurai podavai I ached for appa to look at her and feel proud of everything that was happening. The memories were there but in all that sadness there was plenty to be thankful and happy for.
Today is one year since appa left us. I am learning to understand the healing powers of time. He will never come back but his memories sure will live on.
Appa, you were loved more than you could ever know. I want you to know you did your children proud.