August has always been so fulfilling and joyous for me because, to each person, their birth month is particular. By the end of July, my excitement would soar about turning a year older and anticipating all the celebrations that would take me through the day. That was until I turned twenty-five. Then, it dawned upon me that childhood and its naiveness must peel out its layers. For the last five years, I have barely felt any excitement about my birthday, at least not on that day. And then, precisely two years ago, I spent nearly 20 days of my supposedly favourite month in the hospital ICU tending to my ailing father.

With a strong memory of each day I spent walking through that door, even at non-visitor hours, August just started piercing more and more. I remember my birthday with the darkest thoughts coming over me, when I went with evening soup for him and the electricity went off. As the fire alarm beeped every three seconds, I felt trapped inside, already imagining the worst. Back then, my phone had beeped with yet another text, “Happy Birthday, have a great one,” that snapped me out of that dark hole. The lights were
back on 10 minutes later, but I still felt blinded by where my thoughts had led me.

My father had spoken two sentences to me that day. Of course, he did not remember it was my birthday after a brain hemorrhage, and I did not feel the need to remind him. He asked about the doctor’s visit before the heavy medication dozed him off. So, his last birthday wish was technically three years ago. August, which gave me some of my happiest memories of friendship day and birthday celebrations, also took my strength away.

This month, this year marks my father’s second death anniversary. These two years went by without seeing him, hearing his voice, receiving his texts, or fighting with him have whizzed past, but not without leaving me lonely for many days. It is interesting how grief has such a strong hold over you that it can really shake up the fond, happy memories of almost 30 years you shared to take place as a stinging replacement.

Grief doesn’t take time to settle in. It just arrives and stays with you. It almost becomes a part of your emotions; it sits behind on most days. But on days when you feel low, it comes forward to take you to a phase where you have been sadder. All it needs is a minute trigger of your negative mind space, and it instantly offers an unwanted company. The real struggle is now navigating your way out from your initial trigger and unlatching the grief alongside.

Things going bad at work, having a fight with your spouse, messing something up, and your grief starts convincing you – that this could have been avoided had the person you lost been alongside you. Your logical mind knows this is your mind playing with you, and you let it. You start missing them, the tears flow, and you wonder how they persuaded you today. This is especially true in the case of losing parents.

One thing I’ve learned with my ways of dealing with grief is that you won’t always have the support you thought you would. And on most days, it is YOUR battle. And alone.

The loss is personal, so you should find your shield to protect it from forbearing it on others. Because others may or may not have had their grief encounters yet, their convincing attempts with, “Whatever happened, happened for good,” “He was suffering, it was what he wanted to,” “Stop crying over it, he won’t like it” and so on feel so lackluster and sick.

It has been two years, and people expect things to improve for me. It can make the bearer feel they are falling behind because it has been ‘x’ number of ‘years.’ I know they are, but it is my road to progress, and you cannot measure it in the bulk of 365 days.

The absence of the person does not feel physical but emotional. The loneliness intensifies before it starts lessening. Your grief has got you on a new terrain, and you must walk the path back, leaving the suffering aside and retaking the lonely road. This differs from the road you have been on; it comes with ridges, downward slopes, and upward trails. This is no less than a trek of emotions.

August – I remember most days that were spent speaking to doctors, running around for test results, seeking second/third opinions, having hard conversations with other family members, and the exhaustion of being the first bearer of the eventual bad news to come. I also remember wearing party hats, dressing special, cutting cakes, smiling through pictures, and leaning to seek my parents’ blessings, only to be held by my father midway and hugged.

He would say, “My blessings are always with you.” This rings true as he now blesses me from his abode above. Grief will make you walk this lonely road because you are supposed to be here alone. Only you can take your road to recovery back.

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