It was a bright sunny day, no clouds in the sky. Just us having our daily breakfast peanut butter and jam sandwiches. My brother (5), I (12) and my mom packed our school bags, waved good bye to my dad who was standing on the balcony and left. Oblivious to the fact that it would be our last goodbye to him. We heard the news in the afternoon that he had passed away suddenly and the world just slipped beneath my feet. Fifteen years later, and still I remember that day so vividly.
I had gone from a being a chirpy teenager to being quiet and emotionally detached. I was angry, upset and furious at life for taking away the one person I admired the most. Not just that, everything and everyone around me changed. I had to shift to a new city, meet new people and make new friends. I smiled when required, spoke when it was absolutely necessary and remember crying myself to sleep almost every day for a year. It wasn’t denial per say, but I believed he would come back. My pillar of strength would return like in the movies. I was wrong obviously. But what else can you tell a thirteen year old daughter looking for her dad.
As days passed, I went from missing him every day to thinking how he would react in each of my life milestones. I imagined him during my class X & XII farewell, my first day of college, when I got my first salary and other such phases in my life. Fifteen years have passed and people call me ‘mature’. But deep down, I’m just a little girl who wants to hug her dad and say – ‘I did it. I have learnt to live with the pain of not having you in my life. Haven’t I done great?”
