Next week, it’s crazy, will be the first month my dad has been gone. Though the shock of losing him seemed to block my mourning for him, as the days have gone by, it’s been harder and harder. Specially this past Sunday. It was my fourth Sunday without seeing him… and I don’t get along with #4s. Today I woke up thinking that maybe I could hear his ringing my intercom the way he did so I knew it was him downstairs.
Music has been my blessing and my curse. It often distracts me from wandering into sad territory, but it also reminds me of him. “He would like this,” “I saw this with him,” my mind often thinks. Trying to make sense, over-thinking about it, it seems destiny has been sending me signals throughout the year. First through a Chinese Horoscope scare, and other little bits and pieces of mementos.
Father and daughter movies, songs being played at key moments and words left as token of peacefulness. The day before my father passed away, when he was in good spirits and I was visiting him, he said he had led a good life and that if he had to go, he could go tranquil. I didn’t know then that I wasn’t going to be able to give him a mix of his favorite group  to accompany in his hospital stay.
After my uneasiness started that day, I looked up at the sky and told my dad that if he had to let go, he could. Fifteen minutes later, I was informed of his cardiac arrest. It wasn’t more than 20min in the trauma room, when I knew that he’d decided to let go.
Luck will have it that I didn’t get to watch Talaash until after my father passed.
I feel the need to over-share so I don’t wallow in self-pity.