If Dad Were Here

It’d be so much easier if you were here. You would remember names, places, stories and details I was too young to remember and mom was not present to experience. Your encouragement, practical insistence, on me returning to India before you died was the only reason I have ever been back to India in my life. It is no coincidence that I haven’t returned since then and since you have died.

It really pisses me off sometimes that you died. I mean, what the fuck? Especially when we were still young. I feel like I never got to know you as a person outside of my father.

I know you would’ve wanted me to return, connect and explore my connection to India. Even just that expectation from you would be enough pressure to move me forward, I hated letting you down, especially when you were sick. I remember when we left for India both us kids crying because we didn’t want to leave you, not know if we’d see you again. You were right, I needed to go, but I also needed you to be there to make me do it. I need you again, I need you to make me do this. You knew I wanted to but didn’t know how and here I am again in a similar situation. You quite literally brought me across that ocean once before and helped me find my way back the first time, I need help again and you are no longer here.

It hurts so bad to do this without you here. Without your support and guidance. I don’t know what I’m doing and sometimes just want to be able to ask for your help. Its so strange that it has been almost exactly 10 years since we last spoke. As I sit here writing about how badly I wish you were here to tell me what to do, I know I would probably just ignore it anyway staying true to my obstinate form as an adolescent.

I miss you dad, trying to channel your inner calmness and acceptance of the world, challenges and all, to help move me in this direction I want to go but don’t quite know how to go.

Thanks for listening.

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