When Julia Roberts' mother died, I remember reading about her feeling devastated. I also remember that it occurred to me that losing a parent would reveal our true selves in some way. It seemed to me that death of a parent is like a mystery that would unfold its meaning once it is experienced. I did not know at the time how right I was.
It was my intuition telling me this. Intuition. I do not know what that is exactly, that buffling thing. It never fails, except when it does. Like a gut feeling, or a fight-and-flight response, but on a smaller scale. I am not sure how many of you will understand what I am talking about. However, I am aware that this kind of experience applies to some people, not everyone, of course.
When my dad died I think I probably felt relief because he was no longer in pain. That was the most important thing. He was brave. That was another important thing. Incerdible. But now after a year of his passing, I feel devastated in a way. Actually, there is no word to describe that "feeling". But let's say that I feel sad, bored, lazy, no motivation, no inspiration, zero creativity. It is what it is.
It is what it is and what will be, will be. I am all of a sudden without my pilot-in-command. Umph, life feels bland now. I did not know I would feel this way. Honsetly. Does this mean I am weak? Probably. Nothing new. I think I am going to be sad for a long time. I think I lost not only a pilot but a friend, a support, a tree.
This reminds me of a Kanji (Chinese) radical representing a man leaning on a tree which means "rest" . This is how this radical looks like - 休. The character on the left represents a man, while the character on the right represents a tree. They are essentially Ideograms. They are caricature-like representations of what they mean.
So, this radical means rest, repose, relax. Yes, that is exactly who my father was and how he made me feel. He was my rest. And I wasn`t aware of it. I am aware now. Sad I failed to realise that earlier.
I don't feel guilty, though. I just wish I had hugged him more. He was not a hugger at all, and I probably am not either. He had that thing that he did with me, like shadow boxing or hugging. The feeling I had when he hugged me was that he wasn't embraced enough as a child. Those generations of people were brought up to be tough and resilient. So, almost no embracing probably for fear of being spoilt.
Seeing him dying made me realise that he was really resilient, and a fighter. Who is resilient today? He was brave in the face of illness. I am grateful to God and His Mother that he at last fell asleep, or as we say, he reposed. So he died peacefully. My prayers were heard.
There is nothing else I need to write. I shall have my next coffee of the day. Cheers.
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