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Dear diary, today… death came without an invitation. It filled us with fear, and hopelessness as it took away our loved one. Were we ready? Nobody can be fully ready to let go of one of their own.
Neither were we. And once death did what it had to… there was too much silence, or too much noise. There were too many thoughts and too many questions. There were no answers and only conversations.
But dear diary, I want to confess. I have regrets. Did I do enough? Could I have fought what I could not see. Could I have chosen a different road to protect our loved one? Could the journey towards the end be made any easier. Death does not give answers. Neither does life. We only navigate our way till the time we can’t travel any more. We can only create memories till the time we no longer can.
Yes, I did not do enough. Yes, there is always something more that can be done. Yes, there is too much chatter or too many suggestions floating now to protect our loved one. Where were these people when the battle was being fought? They have suddenly appeared. I am not sure if they matter or not, but what they say does not matter. It does not matter any longer. Words are hollow if they can’t heal. Their words can’t undo the blow of time.
So, we will do the least we can do. We will cherish the happy memories of our loved one. We will cherish the lessons taught unknowingly. We will laugh at the jokes told, and remember the wisecracks, and the moments that were spent together… even if few.
More could be done, yes! But the least that can be done, will be done now.
