the last day I saw you

august 25, 2019

it was the day, that day. the house still felt ice cold, as it had since i returned from the hospital at 4am. 

people collected, dressed in white head to toe. i stood before my mirror, rehearsing my eulogy one last time before i presented it to you. my face turned red, my heart dropped to the floor, and then the floor fell from beneath my feet when i read “rest in paradise, papa”. wait, my dad? my knees gave out as they had the day you departed your body. a knock on the bathroom door “we’re going to be late” it was mom. it was as if a 50 lb weight was chained to each leg. it was as if i was being dragged into a nightmare that i knew had no end.

it was as if darkness had reached up from below to grab my feet and drag me to the funeral home. 

as i approached the hall where dad rested, i sat outside on the bench as my ears bled to the sound of mom crying. i wish i could bring him back, just for you. i wish i could give you your best friend back. 

i took a deep breath, and closed by eyes before i stepped inside. i thought it was all a lie, that it couldn’t be you. but then, i saw you, it was as if you were taking one of your afternoon naps. so at peace. i kissed your forehead before i took my seat. 

i looked around, all your friends are here, your family….but, why aren’t you? 

you have been called home, and there is nothing i can do about it


mom and dad’s wedding. punjab, india.