On Moving On
There’s layer of fine dust over everything in the house, and I’m thinking of how it will take another week to get the damn thing out of every surface, crack and hole in the house. Now, ordinarily, Hindu families avoid any new construction or major purchases for a year after a family member’s death. This job, however, was started by my father, and so we decided to complete it. I stare outside at the hazy excuse of a night sky and I have a sudden moment when everything appears hollow, shallow and meaningless. Unreal. It’s always at night that it’s the worst. When you’re all alone in the darkness with your thoughts, with no TV or guests or internet to distract you. When it hits you just as hard as the first day that there will be no father to wake you up, smile proudly at your test scores, to sing along anymore. People assume you look for an escape from the sadness, and so everyone gives the same advice: let life go on. I object. I don’t want to move on, or let life go