Sometimes I walk the city with the sole purpose of seeing the changing colors of the sky. It puts things into perspective.
Change is the only constant thing in life. We can rely on change. We can’t rely on government, religion, or people as those are subject to change.
All physical events, thoughts, ideas, things, and humans come into being and dissolve. The moment you cling, you set yourself up for failure. That’s why when I say goodbye, deep down I have little to no expectation of seeing that person or thing again. If I do — great; if I don’t — great.
My father died on August 8th, 2019. He was 56 years and 92 days old. He lived a total of 20,532 days. His entire life lasted 492,768 hours. They say it was myocardial infarction.
My father was and remains a mystery to me. He never asked me questions. He was reserved and quiet. He didn’t like to talk. Later, at his funeral, I learned that he bragged about me to his friends. He was so proud. He showed them pictures. I had no idea.
At his funeral, I met his colleagues and friends whom I had never met before. He was a secretive man. There was a man, in his 50s, rubbing his eyes, trying to hide tears from others. He told me he had worked with my dad for over 35 years. They were close.
I said goodbye. It felt normal in a surreal way. Every Sunday I would talk to my dad via Skype and say ‘goodbye,’ not knowing if we would speak again. This time was no different. Part of me firmly believed we would Skype again. I would see his smile on my phone’s screen again. One day.
Impermanence took on a whole new level. Instead of grieving and allowing myself to experience whatever is to be experienced in these situations, I moved on. Maybe too fast. I flew back home and moved on.
I called my grandmother (the mother of my father) to console her. I said, ‘Dad is happy now. He is doing well.’ Then I said we would meet him soon. My grandmother laughed through tears, ‘I’ll meet him first,’ she said. ‘You are still young.’
Then I kind of expected to see my dad in my dreams, but he didn’t come. Then I caught myself thinking about him more and more. I found myself closing my eyes and seeing his smile. Just like that. Every time I closed my eyes, his face was right there. How bizarre, I thought. And how handsome he was, I thought.
We all grieve in different ways.
Some cry, some laugh, some drink, some dance.
Change is the only constant thing in life.
I love you, Dad.
Anna Meshcherova 