Trigger Warning: grief, death
Inhale, exhale, Inhale, Exhale .. a dozen times a minute and thats enough to keep you oxygenated to do all the amazing things you are capable of. If you pause to listen you’ll hear the sound of wind, rhythmically blowing in and out of your lungs like clockwork; the original soundtrack to your life. Ideally you want that soundtrack to go on forever, we all do. However we want it, the events of last year have made it clear how much life our lives hinges on that soundtrack and how delicate it really is. When I think about breathing, I feel the shortness of breathe millions have suffered through over the pandemic, I hear George Floyd’s plea, “I can’t breathe”, I see the fragility of the soundtrack.
On a personal level, I recently lost my breath when I heard the news of my father’s death. For about 3 seconds, my body froze, although I could feel my heart working overtime.I now know that I was experiencing what is clinically known as Broken Heart Syndrome. Of Course my heart was broken, it still is. I’ll never see him again nor hear his voice nor hear from him nor hear about him; however few decades I was able to spend with him, there will be no more. I’m heart broken because I can’t imagine the pain and suffering he went through before he left us. I’m broken because I wasn’t there when it happened and I didn’t see it coming. I’m broken because the person I’ve known my whole life to be my dad is no more. I’m broken because this feels like punishment and none of it makes any sense.
Months later I’m still broken. Grief is a sneaky beast that is triggered by unexpected things in the most unexpected places. I’ve been caught off guard by a cashew nut ad, at lunch, at the park, at the mall. Something about grief that makes you stop on your tracks. It is sad and scary to think of where our loved ones have gone to, a better place? a meaning less void? reincarnation?, probably. We have theories and beliefs but some assurance would be great. Grief reminds us of how powerless we are against its sneakier cousin, death. No matter how much we distract ourselves with the busyness and pleasantries of life, it is always there, lurking, waiting for its time to strike. Whatever illusion of control we have, is just that, an illusion. Death can take us or our loved ones any minute and sometimes without warning.
Every year on my birthday I used to wake up to a SMS text from my dad, wishing me a great year ahead. Despite moving a lot these past few years, it didn’t matter which country I was in, or how much it would cost him or what was going on in his life, he stuck to this ritual. I missed that text this year and that was triggering in every way possible. I’ll get used to it, eventually. Between now and then, I’ll do my best to appreciate the soundtrack while it still plays.