letting go by gurpartap singh (i am malala young readers edition txt) 📕

daunted by the emptiness and the silence. Worse was the realization that this emptiness, this silence was here to stay, that it was going to become a part of our lives. She asked for a drink. I know that drinks do not mitigate grief. But how could I refuse her? Alcohol is a strange thing. It can levitate your mood in happiness but when sad, it brings back the flavor of the grief very strongly. She became sentimental after two sips and started reminiscing. I tried to comfort her. But, the grief seemed to have gone beyond words. Words seemed wholly inadequate. They seem to have been made for strangers. How easily they sit on their lips! How easily they can mouth the formulas, “It is all right; everything happens for the best; take courage; have faith.” I knew all the formulas but I could not use any. How could I tell her that the death of our only son did not matter? How could I say that it was all right? I had to give her a Valium. I wandered about the house aimlessly, surprised at how much silence an absence can bring.

Nov 24 : Today I found her rummaging in the cupboard. She told me that she was looking for his favorite cup. When I told her that it had slipped from my hand and broken she started searching in the dustbin. I told her that I had thrown away the pieces too. She glared at me. I could have sworn she hated me then. We all have different ways for the management of grief. Some of us become quiet, while others become loquacious and try to hide the pain behind words. Some treasure things that belonged to the deceased, while others take everything off the shelves and stow it all away. Some want to remember everything, savor even the pain and then there are those who want to forget everything and act as if nothing happened, nothing changed. I belong to this last category. Every day, I take something that belonged to him and put it away somewhere in his room, which I know she won’t step into. I don’t have the heart to throw it away, or give it to someone else. Article by article, one day his cap, the next day his cup, I am taking everything, removing all signs of his presence from the house so that we are not constantly reminded of him, his absence till the day all signs are gone and we will be just a sad, elderly couple who never had a son.

Dec12: I went into his room tonight. How cold it was! I went to his bed and remembered how we had talked in this very room only some months back. I sat down on the side of the bed and caressed the pillow. All signs of his presence have gone and yet they are all there. His stereo, his collection of CDs, his bike magazines – they were all there. Yet, they all seemed lifeless. The spirit has gone out of them, leaving only the cold remnants. I remembered our conversation and all that I had left unsaid. It is thus, trusting an uncertain future that we lose so many precious moments. In thinking that we will have many opportunities later on, we postpone our words and actions. How I wish I had not been reticent; that I had told him that I love him. Tears came to my eyes again and as I looked about, they started flowing. This time, I did not check them. She was not there to watch them. My tears belong to the night.

Dec. 15: I called her from work today. I asked her what she was doing. Nothing, she said. I told her to visit some friend; that it would take her mind off and be a good change. She told me that she could not bear to meet anyone.
“They are so kind and polite with me,” she said, “ that I feel I am a handicapped person and with their kindness they remind me of it all again. I wish they would treat me naturally. I am sick of their pity. I don’t know which is worse, being with them, surrounded by their sad, comforting faces and their terrible pity or being home alone.”
It is paradoxical. She says that she wants people to treat her normally and when I do that, she accuses me of being cold. What do I do?

Dec. 23: So much pretending. So much pretending!

Jan. 10: Her condition has started to bother me. She seems to have frozen in the moment and does not seem inclined to get out of it at all. I try to reach out to her but in vain. It appears that she has donned the cloak of mourning forever. She has become an island and the shores of her mind are touched only by her grief. I cannot reach out to her, cannot touch her. It is maddening. Sometimes, I too want to share my grief and unburden myself, but with whom? I cannot talk to her. I do not want to add to her grief. This silence! This emptiness! Sometimes, I feel that I am going mad.

Feb. 27: Today, she went shopping. After three months, she stepped out of the house. I was relieved. But, that did not last long. She showed me the shopping. She had bought an orange sweatshirt. For me! How could I wear it? My son’s favorite color. If I wear it, I will think about him all the time. And god knows there is no need for that! We think of him all the time as it is. Do I have to wear the sweatshirt now and remember how good the color looked on him?

March 15: It has been five months now. Things are not improving at all. She remains passive like a stone. And I cannot do anything about it. How terrible that we have to live like this!

March 27: Tonight, I tried to reach out to her in bed. She was crying. Words again failed me. I could not talk to her. What could I say? What could I ask? I tried to reach out to her, hoping that she would understand. But, she misunderstood me and lashed out at me. Tears rose to my eyes at our situation and when she switched the lights on, I had to look away and clear my eyes before I faced her. But, she did not let me speak. I went into the sitting room and resting my forehead on the cold table, I cried. She did not come out to check on me. This grief seems to have severed our ties forever, making us aliens to each other.

April 10: I cannot live like this any longer. Something seems to have died within me. Nothing in life seems to have any meaning at all. I work to kill time or I would go mad. People say that everything becomes all right with time. I am beginning to wonder if that’s true. It has been more than six months and we are still frozen in the same moment. The pain, the deadness, the barrenness – it’s still there, stronger than ever. She had called me cold and heartless. I wonder if that’s not true. In a way, I am dead.

April 20: Tonight, I contemplated suicide. I am sick of living like this. How easy it would be to just die! And how comforting! The thought, the relief of death was wonderful. Like an addict to the needle, I felt drawn to the idea. I went to the toilet and looked for an instrument with which I could cut my nerve. The thought of life dripping out of my body, drop by drop, taking all the pain with it, was soothing. I could not find anything. In the end I picked up my Gillette. I took it and sat down in my chair. I touched my nerve with it. My heart beat faster. I pressed the blade and a little blood oozed out. Then, she called out my name in her sleep. I started and the razor fell from my hands. I cannot do this. No matter how much I want to die, I cannot do this. If she were not here, if I were alone with my burden of grief, I would not think twice about it. But, now that she is here, I have to live for her.

There the diary ended. The last entry was two days old. She closed the diary and stared ahead blankly. Her mind was numb. No thought passed through her mind. She closed her eyes and pressed her eyelids. She heard the door open behind her. She got up from the chair and turned around, holding the diary behind her back. He looked at her in surprise and smiled weakly. She walked towards him, stopped a few feet from him and then held out the diary. He looked at her in surprise and then his face fell. She felt tears springing to her eyes. The briefcase slipped from his hand. She moved close to him and they looked into each other’s eyes, brimming with tears. She touched his face gently. He swallowed. She moved closer and then embraced him. His body seemed to sag in her arms. She felt his stomach heave. She dropped the diary and rubbed her hand over his back. She felt the tears come. She held him tightly and said, “It’s all right.” She ruffled his hair and whispered, “Everything is going to be all right.”
They clung to each other – each other’s solace in their common grief.
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Publication Date: 02-11-2010

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