It’s been long , really long.
Do you know your son grew up and married a beautiful lady?
And that he fathered a child reminiscent of you? Yes , that is me.
I would hear stories of your struggles, your unflinching courage in moments of hardship , and above all, of your unconditional love . The stories would enrapture my heart , capture my imaginations. I would sit for hours together crafting stories of our bond, imagining you caressing my tresses, wiping my pains away.
I longed for my portion of your love.
Then one day….
Papa pulled out an old photograph of yours from a rocky old shelf. Years of dust and soot stood guard over the good ol’ shelf of memories and nostalgia. His eyes moistened as he ran his hands over your face.
Essence of your delicate form and quaint expression captured in sepia moments, evoked in him a sense of gratitude and grief alike. Gratitude for the love you brought him up with, despite all odds. Grief that you died young, without letting him repay that love.
Your love lay unrequited amongst those customary family portraits. I picked one up, looked into your eyes. I felt a spark in my heart , a sudden rush of energy.
Was that my share of love I longed for?
Was it the fire of compassion in your eyes lighting up my heart?
Your soul lay in close proximity, to which mine felt connected.The temptation to brush it off as delusional ebbed and flowed in my heart. At last I let it go, because it had felt enlightening and divine.
And somethings are better left unexplained…..
Sometimes it feels weird that the dead comfort me better in my lowest moments than those in flesh and blood. But you are different, you don’t feel dead. The thought of your heavenly eyes watching me from up above leaves me….
Stronger yet Serene, Stronger by Love ,
Stronger to face the agony I don’t deserve.