Dada, today I called your phone; not once, not twice, but thrice just to make sure I know what I know. But somehow I know what I know but I am finding it so hard to accept. Its the hardest in the mornings because every night I dream of you.
I see you getting dressed for a meeting; standing in front of the mirror as you tuck your perfectly ironed tshirt and neaten your collar.
I see you as you examine yourself and spray your favourite Chanel perfume. The memory doesn’t only tingle the eyes and break the heart but it burns the nose. A sight that once made me smile, now only makes me feel empty and hollow.
I see you exercise your pectoral muscles, as you look at me with a proud and cheeky smile and ask, “Did you see that?”
I see you feed my children with fruits and cheese, as you laugh in astonishment over what great appetites they have. What will I tell them when they are older? How will I explain to them about how their beloved Dada was so cruelly taken away from them?
I hear your laugh, specially after you crack a crude joke, and I see you roll your eyes at me when I say, “Hello, daughter present,” to which you’d always reply, “Like you don’t know about these things.”
I see how happy you got when your grandsons fought over cuddles with you. I hear you laugh and say, “Look at this small bugga getting so jealous over me cuddling Siddha!”
I see you singing your compositions to them. The lyrics, “Clap your hands baby,” was probably your master piece, it never failed to comfort Ravana but for me it was just confirmation that you did the right thing by never pursuing a musical career.
I keep hearing you say,”Marcus, you bugga, have another drink and eat some more food.” The effort you put into meals with us was phenomenal, all because you knew we didn’t have someone to cook for us.
You spent so much of your life, giving and taking care of people, I can’t fathom how someone could take so much from you. I can’t understand how they stopped the beating of your heart and took you away from us. I hope you didn’t suffer. I hope you went in peace and I hope you knew how much you were and always will continued to be loved. I hope you know that one of the best things in my life was being your daughter.
You made me tough and strong, at the cost of me misunderstanding you. You pushed me to try and be the best of everything I chose to do, specially with taking care of my kids. I don’t know what happens after death, but where ever you maybe I hope you are drinking your favourite drink right after you toast your highly inappropriate toasts. And whatever it maybe that you are doing, know that I will always carry apart of you with me, just like you took a part of me with you that day you died.