
bruhahaha! this is why i am not haing a day job....
of course many freelance contracts also have the slavery clause. my mother makes me clean my own home-office..
you say herro, i say goodbye..
it’s been hard lately…. thinking up new ‘witty’ puns to make for more iyer jokes. takes a iyer understanding. i’m going to stop.. now.
it’s also been hard for me to understand me feelings lately. i don’t know if i’ve been thinking too much, or too much about all the wrong things. i’ll go with theory two. because i’ve been thinking a lot about my dad.
it hurts as i write this post too. one part of my brain is thinking ‘this is too personal to share on a public forum?’ - another part doesn’t care. it feels ok.
making words out of the haziness in my head.
i was just reading my older post - fairy wings - that i wrote less than a month after he passed away and i was almost amused at how strong i seemed.
thank god for cynicism and sarcasm and for my ability to use them as a defense mechanism. i try and make it easier for the people around me all the time. you need to. no point other people feeling uncomfortable about your loss. personal loss is something no one can truly empathise with… no matter how much of a similar position they might have been in.
so i end up making fun of him a lot, when i’m talking to other people about him.. maybe then they’ll think i handled it like a mature person.
’so my dad actually thought that the alien theory of religion might have some relevance to today’s fanatical practices! ha .. ‘
‘my dad read this book on osho and insisted that i read it to try to see if i liked it.. yeah .. ha-ha’
‘my dad was slightly dyslexic i think, he actually misspelt my name in his will. its diYva.. now my sister will claim she doesn’t know anyone by that name! teehee’
‘this ring i wear as a pendant on this chain, its my dad’s wedding ring… reckoned if i dont get anything from the will, this diamond ring is worth something… :) ‘
there.. its all a riot. for me. all the time.
but sometimes it isn’t so funny. thats when the dreams come. they come and they go. they’re uninvited guests that come and stay .. even after dinner… even after i go to sleep. they just don’t go away, ghosts of muddled memories that stand over my bed and watch me sleep.
he’s there like he normally would be, at a family gathering, or at home watching tv. in the dream , i’m talking to him like i always would, but i also am aware that he’s dead/dying. i’m confused in the dreams. always.
they’re still there when i wake up. faint and misty, but it takes a while to get up, kick myself in the arse and pretend that i’m fine and ready for a great new day.
don’t get me wrong. i’m getting up and getting on with my life. i’m fine. i’m thinking too much. thats all. the dreams have been re-running in my head more days than not lately. maybe its because it’s just in the past few that i talk about him in past tense. i make a conscious effort to. my mom doesn’t have to remind me. no one does.
i remember. i know he’s gone.
i just think about him a lot and wonder if he ever thinks of me.
siddhartha buddha, in his lifetime, said: “it is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles. then the victory is yours. it cannot be taken from you, not by angels or by demons, heaven or hell.”
maybe one day, when i do conquer myself, the dreams will come and i will have accepted that he’s gone and it will not be taken from me… not my angels or demons, not by heaven or hell.
