Losing Father

Losing father at a young age of 6 is very different. I cried but I didn't understand my loss is permanent. Because I didn't understand death. I cried because everyone around me was crying and was in a very sorrow and unfortunate situation. I neither understood the process/illness that culminates into death nor I fathomed funeral that follows death. Seeing motionless father who has been filled with action until recently is a rude shock to a tender child. Not knowing where to go for things, I was previously going to father for, was another big trauma. Mother is inconsolable and father is nowhere to be seen. A fumbling child closes out mind with eyes desperately searching for something he does not know. I tried to answer questions for myself with the underdeveloped mind. The old memories slowly trickled down in the mind as there were no more memories to be made about the father. I changed place because we could not stay in that house consequently I changed school too. Made me even more vulnerable, irritated. Nothing seemed in my control. Not even the lap of the mother as she was busy looking after younger sibling and I bore the burden of being older at an age of 6. I developed the stigma about the lack of something that is not my fault. I started trusting things around but inside I was just aware that faith is very thin. As thin as the guarantee of life. That failed for my father. 

I ran but felt that drag on my feet. I studied hard but met the limit. I pushed hard and realised there is something I don't have. And that push became harder. Because I wanted to substitute the lack of something with that push. It worked sometimes and gave me success but it started applying a layer to the vacuum of loss of a father in the mind. That layer took me away from the pain. It gave many moments of joy for my present effort. But it never healed or filled that vacuum. In my growing days, I had to become more independent and someone who can look after siblings. I needed to stand out with my behaviour. It is very similar to the moulding process. It gave me shape but not strength. As a young child, I became dis-engaged with my childhood. I kept my emotions charged with the weight of that trauma.  I carried the burden of a lot of pity, sympathy. It was hard to come out of loss because pity gave me feeling of someone victimised by nature, situation, circumstances that are beyond my control. It put my self-confidence on the back-foot. I continuously hid myself. As the continuous self-portrayal must go on. I don't know if there is any healing process for such loss that repairs/refills the vacuum. The age neither gives a clue of that vacuum nor a solution. I walked on the path not having any end in the mind. 

The sheer sight of a child with father left me in an acute grip of that vacuum. There was no one to own my mistakes. No one to help me learn from failures. No one to lift me with pride when I came first in the sports. The strong hand that holds a child against troubles and teaches him how to face them leaves him to do that on his own. I was left with my instinct. Those with positive instinct improve and those with negative perish. There is a lot of evidence I went through to show the success is circumstantial and then my attempts and hardship tried to bridge the gap. In going that way, I was constantly reminded by some twitch in the guts that I am missing something. I became unpredictable about what will break me and what will not. Suddenly a small reason reminded me the loss and without any control on the eyes and emotions, tears ran down the cheek profusely. It was hard to repair! When I grew up and reduced the dependency on the father, the wound became a part of my personality that did not hurt so much and so frequently.

But it hounded me back in a surprising way when I myself became the father of a child. I cried and surrendered to God to not orphan that child of mine. I loved the life like never before. But in the mind, I knew very clearly that death was as certain as broad daylight. Then one part of me always woke up with a mission to prepare my children to live without me. The only way was through hard discipline. But then I also knew that vacuum can never be filled/repaired through any preparation. Neither for me and nor for my child. 

All that left me to live the day as if I was going to meet the death tomorrow, Making most of the day. A better way to live life. However, only I knew the cost at which I have learnt this, is very very expensive................. 

Rahul Karurkar