Today, we went down to officially close my father's bank account. 

Things like these are rather sad, but when your loved one passes on, albeit that person is someone as close as your parent, what needs to be done still has to be done. 

I feel my heart isn't in the right place to empathise with another these days. 

The way I feel it's deeply unfair that anyone should dictate how long a person ought to grieve for. The world continues to spin despite a family experiencing a giant gaping hole in its midst. And the way I would smile my way through my tears. 

Thing is we all mourn our loss differently and in my family there's a white elephant standing in the room of a life gone so early we could barely speak of it. 

Thing is I couldn't cry big tears - there's a certain kind of pain that slices your heart into pieces you tolerate the agony in silence. 

I also do not have the mood or joy to plan a happy occasion. 

It's all such a mockery in my face. 

My mother would like to buy me a necklace for my wedding. To me it's not so much the cost but the way it's especially meaningful because it's a gift from both my parents. That's priceless in itself. 

24 January, Tues 8:44pm 

Death looms over the house like imminent dark clouds 

it's the white elephant that lingers in the room 

like an unspoken oath to never mention the person who passed

the way you saw your mother quietly looking at old family photos 

in a corner, forcing a smile acting like everything is alright 

even if the said person is your father 

it's coercing myself to throw fragments of my memories out the window 

but the wound is so raw and it keeps bleeding so much it hurts 

they say nobody really leaves if you never stop remembering them

there's a lot of pain and a lot of regrets 

I wonder if it hurt for my father in his last moments 

I wonder if he was afraid 

I thought about how he was only sixty-six, how painfully young 

I wonder if he knew how thankful I am that he waited

and how deeply apologetic I was for thinking he would be fine 

that he would bounce back time and again, 

as though I had thought my father was ironman 

I was told to grieve in my own way and to let my tears fall  

but I can't; there's some pain that can't be illustrated 

the way it cuts my heart so deeply there's no tears left to cry, just silence 

I am sorry for all the unfilial words and thoughts I ever had towards my father

he was like a thunder I couldn't avoid and I was his heavy raincloud 

I wished things had turned out differently for you and for us 

but till the end I know I should be happy 

it doesn't hurt anymore for you. 

 19 January, 9:52am 

I find it so incredulously unfair - the way the world continues despite the great loss that someone experiences. The way I've lost a parent and my heart is broken into smithereens and I feel so sad and lost and everyone else in the world is so happy, and living their best lives and the thoughts in my head of my father now an urn of remains and ashes is still so clear in my head. I am beyond distraught. 

Why do people expect you to be okay in a month's time, or in their preset time? They've not had to grieve a loss quite this huge. 

People can say all kinds of things and give their condolences but they will never truly understand how you feel unless they have been in your position and I truly do not wish this upon anyone.

It's so unfair. 

I'm going to be 29

17 January, 2023 12:25pm 

Hi, it's been 8 years my diary. 

Did you know? 

My father passed on 2 weeks ago. 

I cried buckets and it hurts so much.

I thought about my father yesterday, and I wanted to write my feelings down.

I recalled I had a blog but didn't think much of it. Maybe it had ceased to exist, maybe in the 8 years I was away the page had shut down. But I came back to 328 diary entries of mine - all documented from 2013 - January 2015. 

I read each one of them and it brought back so much memories, though I mostly felt really hurt reading them, and apologetic and nostalgic and a little silly. 

It's strange how from a certain point of time onwards I became the present version of myself people know and identify with. I still denounce the idea of being vanilla, but I have become so much more mellow. I made new friends - many new friends - drifted apart from some people I used to spend a lot of time with and lost a few old friends. Reading my posts makes me miss them so much - and realised at that point of time when I was young and sad - all I needed was fatherly love - which I tried finding in all the wrong places, and in the wrong people and how I broke my own heart time and again.

I started going to church in 2013 - after many years away from church as a child - and I wrote about God a lot and how I was healing. I wrote about the friends I made and how happy I was to have them in my life. Though in some posts, my happiness felt more like cha-cha, two steps forward one step back. 

There were people whom if we have met at the right timing, perhaps the outcome would be different. But almost a decade on, I'm happy how things turned out for all of us. 

Reading back, I always loved to read and write. I've loved books before I even turned seven, now that I think of it - maybe I got it from my father. He was always watching the news and reading the papers.

I was always a mommy's girl and I wrote a lot about my parents being overly protective and worried about me. 

But what hurt me the most were the few posts I wrote about my father.

We were much closer in the past, but back in 2014 he was already starting to get very sick because of his diabetic condition. I wrote about caring for him and feeling helpless. 

Did you know? If I hadn't written down my feelings I would have forgotten those little incidents and conversations with my dad. I'm glad I did. I'm just sorry I stopped writing in my diary for such a long time. I guess I was happy and living my life. 

My heart hurts a lot. 

When my dad got sicker over the years, sometimes I would think of what I would write about the years I grew up with him - it's almost like a eulogy - so I wouldn't forget him.

I think I will start writing in my diary again. 

Dear Diary,

Do you think my father is in a better place now where he has both legs to walk and run and sprint? 

I hope he's not hurting anymore wherever he is. 

I want to only remember good and beautiful thoughts about him.