Lockdown Diaries Nominee#23- With love, me By Navdha Bhalla

Dearest Dad,

I knew it. I knew you were ill. Staying indoors in this lockdown only made me surer. But how ill—that I didn’t know. You and Mum had always been so clever at concealing every trouble from Jill and me. We spoke about it—Jill and me, looking for signs if we had seen anything go amiss while growing up, all to no result. What it was, I wonder. I had heard you and Mum talking the day you left the army—pardon me for eavesdropping—but you both seemed quite worried back then.

Above all, I remember when I was getting ready for Lilly’s party, I was dressed in shorts, and this is how it went—
You: You look pretty.
Me: Thanks, Dad.
You: What are those?
Me: I bought them yesterday, Dad. Don’t you remember?
You: Ah yes. They are quite short.
Me: These are shorts, Dad.
You: Anyway—I hope there is no alcohol at the party?
Me: There won’t be any. Her parents will be nearby.
You: Nearby?!
Me: Next door, Dad!
You: If they were away, would there be?
Me: I don’t think so. Jill is sober.
You: There better NOT be any. It’s illegal. Now, I hope you know that miss.
Me: Of course, Dad. I’ll be late.
You: Mo, listen very carefully. I and Mum are blessed to have you. When you were hardly a month old, you got stomach flu. We were broken. Your sister was also very worried….
Me: Worried I might survive….!
You: NO, Mo. You are very precious to us. Look at us—we are a happy family. Me, Mum, Jill and you. When you arrived, your mother exploded into tears, our family was complete at last. YOU MUST KNOW THIS—you’re loved beyond measure. It is your responsibility not to let any harm overcome you, otherwise we will be devastated. We are here for you, whenever you need us. Never settle for less than the best. There should be lines of young boys waiting for such a beautiful girl! Let them know this, Mo. I repeat—if anything happens to you, a black hole will be created in our lives.
Now you can go. I will be in the dining area when you arrive.
Me: Thanks, Dad.

That day I knew that I was at the receiving end of the love that you and Mum provided; you had left no stone unturned in letting me know that.
But then what happened, Dad? I remember vividly—I slept at David’s the night before, and in the morning I was only too excited to meet you both; unknown of what was coming. Mum was sitting on the sofa, no tears at all. It appeared that a corpse was sitting upright in the living room. Yes, it was she who told me. She said you were suffering badly all day and the last thing you went upstairs together, with quite a struggle due to your discomfort. You kissed her goodnight. You told her you loved her. You shuffled out to the other room, so as not to disturb her slumber.

When she woke up next morning, she said she had a strong sense of disconnection immediately. Something felt wrong. She called out to you and there was no answer. Then there was a panicky frantic bit when Jill searched for you, shouted out for you in the garden. The car was missing. I don’t know how or why she looked there, but Jill drove, on her motorbike, I think, up to the field where you kept some of your rabbits. She found you. God. That must have been dire, sickening. You had planned it. A hose on the exhaust, fitted carefully, fed through the window of the car. A bottle of sherry, so that a dizzy man would sleep peacefully to his death. Never to wake up again. Never to be disturbed.

I want to know, Dad, what happened exactly— So you had lied to me when you had said that you will be there for me? Did you see a light? Did angels sing to you to ease your journey to the place of the dead? Is that where you are now? Did you hear a voice? Did your entire life play in front of your closed eyes like a splendid movie? Did we cross your mind? Did I cross your mind? Or you did not think of us at all so that you could do it? Was it peaceful or was there agony? Did you fight your depression till the last moment or gave in too early? Why did you want to do this? Were we not enough? Had you thought that we would not understand? Or did you think that you will leave the world better off without you? Or was it us who you thought would be the best without you?

I guess I’ll never know, Dad. But in case you are in search for signs of anger, you won’t find them. Why should I be angry after all? That you are peaceful now than you could have been here? No, Dad, I love you. I was just broken, that I was a ‘dad less’ child now. You left me with happy memories, tons of them, which still act as a source of bliss for me. I was 19 then—and I think that in a few years I will be older than you ever got to be. But in my head you are still that young army man. This is wrong. It is an unwritten rule that parents should always be older than their kids—don’t you think?
In the evening of the day your funeral took place, I, Mum and Jill went for a walk at the beach. This is where you had always taken us for picnics.

I stood at the shore when a wave came and crashed on the rocks. That wave was metaphorically you, Dad. It went back after a small collision and took a part of me with itself, forever.
With love,
Your darling, Mo Hart.

ReachIvy.com organized an online blog/vlog competition to provide people the unique opportunity to share their lockdown stories using their creativity. The competition met with a fantastic response from participants across 4 continents, and our jury has handpicked the Top 50 entries from them for the Popular Choice Award 2020!

The above entry has been submitted by Annika Basu from India. She is a 12-year-old student of Banaras Hindu University. Kudos to Annika for this beautiful piece!

Show your support and help Jaya win the contest by liking this blog post on all ReachIvy.com’s social media platforms!