Friday, August 9, 2019

how to disappear completely

Dear Dad:

Eleven years.

I remember waking up on the day of your destined departure and thinking, ‘my dad is going to die today.’ It’s one of those things in life that is deemed so inconceivable, its consequences are only received in its arduous aftermath. Its unwavering persistence never falters, and its impact brands the rest of our existence with habitual heartbreak.

The days preceding your anniversary and my self-proclaimed ‘Annual Day of Dread,’ are nothing more than an unwanted invitation to resurrect repressed resentment. You were around for the good, but I surely never imagined you’d be absent from the best. I know you’d do anything to disencumber my mind from its boundless bereavement. Instead, I resort to finding solace in your relentless efforts in making yourself known during my darkest and most challenging of times. After all, sequences of intuitive innuendos have displeasingly become our new black.

In lieu of countless internal dialogues justifying the need to visit your grave, I have yet to muster the courage to do so. Guilt, obligation and desire all take a backseat to the mere fact that I can’t come face-to-face with your headstone for reasons stemming from nothing short of the fact that you just don’t belong there. It has taken me a long time to remotely come close to terms with your absence, I need not be reminded of the true permanence of your demise.

Death is a such a mind-fucking conundrum, and grief is its unsolicited ally. Despite being an inevitable outcome, it is the only standing certainty of our existence that elicits permanence in its truest form. I mourn your loss every single day of my life, and I selfishly miss your physical presence. Today, I grieve a life without you in it.


I’ll see you in my dreams,



jax

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