The 9th of April, My Defining Moment

“It will all be okay”, they said, but was it. Will i become who i want to be, or who i once was or could ever be. Did my family and friends even know that my perfectly shaped, healthy heart is now nothing but an amorphous, characterless piece of destruction. My answer is “no”, they never knew. It all began with me hating myself for not communicating with my father, for two years, prior to his passing ( and for not letting him know that i loved him). But no one will ever understand what i went through; because i had a dissimilar path to my father and also a diverse story.

Losing a parent is always traumatic, but saying “ adieu ” to your father when you’re still a child brings its own unique kind of anguish. The melancholy thing is that Ive changed, after his death, into someone different and much stronger; but someone I dislike. I sit every night trying to think of how i can be the ‘perfect’ daughter for my mom and how to be supportive, but i can never bring myself to be that person; the better person. Everyone says that grieving will soon get better if i just give it time, but I am in search of a friendship that will nurture me. ‘That’ day i built up a indestructible wall around my heart and locked up my emotions and thoughts. I met new, jovial people and spent a lot of time with them to try and suppress the heavy pain and I convinced myself that everything was better; and it felt better. But the truth is i lied to myself for days, months, and years, until i was left alone for a couple of days which allowed the heartache, that had become increasingly burdensome, to slowly creep back and break me down.

My walls are indeed destructible… In fact, I have been known to misplace my aspiration in the way things fall, and if I have to confess there stands a greater chance that I have all but lost my mind. I was once told that the love I felt pounding inside my chest from the new happy people i met, was nothing more than my mind playing an unfair ruse on my heart. And like a pair of dice, dancing along the jagged sidewalk, my fate, much like yours and others had already been decided. I’ve seen a million faces. I’ve seen a million different faces, and each one has mirrored that of my father’s. And still, none of them feel like home to me, none of them feel like ‘him’. I can only tentatively and vaguely trace his outline, I can vaguely recall what it felt like to hug him. I remember the feeling when he said “ Well done, my little girl. ” and I can remember what it was like to stare blindly into his eyes for what felt like an eternity.

The lesson one learns is not to cover up pain or to hide it. But, instead, deal with it, bit by bit, everyday and have determination to achieve success and move forward despite the difficulty. Strength does not come from athletics and sports but instead from lifting yourself up when you are knocked down. To be free is to let go and that is why releasing the pain and suffering will help you grow and become stronger. To bring about healing doesn’t mean that the damage never existed, but allows one to take control of how the damage affects them and controls them in the long run. I am a free radiant butterfly in the wind, flying at my own pace and choosing when the wind and chaos will strike me down. I keep my eyes on the dazzling sun so that i cant see the shadow of darkness. The pain of yesterday is not ours to improve, but tomorrow is ours to win. Winning is the only way one can achieve joy, I have won, and I am nourished. I have conquered the pain, because i will find you again Dad. I will find you again…