Learning through experience and error

You’ll Always Be My Favourite Part Of The Pack

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You'll Always Be My Favourite Part Of The Pack

It’s officially two months today since the day you left. I don’t remember much about that day. No, honestly, I don’t. All I remember are moments, and everything else is pretty much a blur. Before you judge me and give me that puppy face though, hear me out once.

I’m sorry. I knew you were sick. It was the longest week I’ve had in recent years, mainly because I wanted to see you, but certain obligations wanted me in another city. I’m sorry I left your side when you needed me the most. I’m sorry, I wasn’t even there when you left.

I remember wearing the new T-shirt and sneakers out of some want to pretend everything was fine. I don’t know how I exactly felt that morning. Then, mom called and told me you were gone. Just like that. In fifteen seconds, she said more than enough. It was fifteen minutes later that I had to be on the campus for an exam. I’m sorry, I didn’t have the time to shed a tear. How could I have? I would’ve never been able to walk out the door and through the gates had I given into how devastated I felt.

You were gone, and in that final moment, I denied you my presence and my affection. It must’ve felt like I didn’t care at all, right? It wasn’t like that, I promise. I was collapsing on the inside. Perhaps, that is why I could escape into the computer screen, typing code without listening to anything mundane my classmates had to say. Even if they did, I couldn’t hear it at the time.

All I could see was the screen, in that lab as white as glass and in that glass screen your reflection, staring at me like you always did when you wanted something. Your chin on the edge of the bed, your eyes gazing right into mine.

You could’ve taken away anything at that moment, and yet, that gaze kept flashing in front of my eyes as I typed every bullshit CSS rule I knew, and I denied you a single tear. You must hate me now, don’t you? All these years growing up together and I showed no remorse at all. Almost like, I was unaffected.

Hear me out though; it killed me. It killed me throughout that dreaded bus ride back home. Perhaps, therefore I find myself extremely anxious on buses now as I spontaneously start scrolling through your photos and listening to that one track which was on throughout that journey.

I came home, and there was no one to move around my legs and between the luggage; no greeting except my mother’s face which clearly showed she’d lost a son. I entered the door to the most unfamiliar our house has looked since forever. There was no pat and tap of your nails on the floor. There still isn’t. It kills me at times. It kills me every day. I’m sorry I started comforting mom and dad and fought the tears back inside.

It’s been two months now, and all I can do now is fight those tears back as I write this in a dimly lit room. You’ve put me in an awkward position as always. I didn’t get to cry somehow, and now that it’s been so long, I feel it’s unjust to your memory that anyone would shed a tear so long after you left. You were, after all, the happiest thing in my life and I’d do anything to keep that never-ending excitement on your face.

Just this morning, I woke up and almost felt you wishing good morning like you would as you’d get on the bed halfway and lick my face. Almost. You weren’t there. You aren’t there. I still wait to get out of bed at times, hoping you didn’t realise I was up. Don’t get me started on coming home every day or after a long trip. Every single corner of this house feels like a constant reminder of you every single day. You’d know better. I still find something that reminds me of you in the most unexpected of places.

As I lay in bed to sleep, I saw the date turn to the ninth at the midnight hour and couldn’t resist but scroll through your pictures again. I do that a lot. Just that this time, I couldn’t resist getting up and writing you this letter and I couldn’t resist the tears that have now devastated what looks to be the keyboard. I can’t tell. It’s blurry.

You go be a good boy, wherever you go next. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you that before you left. I’m sorry it took me so long.

I know I’ve said this a million times but you’ll always be my favourite part of the pack.

About the author

Deepansh Khurana

Blogger and writer from Dehradun, India. I'd say I love coffee but don't we all? I find stories, people and experiences. I blog about them.

4 comments

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    • I’m really sorry for not taking the time to comment. So did I. I cried for hours during and after writing this post. However, I think it was much needed. I learned that it is really important to grieve and avoiding things only makes it harder and harder. I have felt that a lot of those things I’ve mentioned became easier once I let it all out.

  • Always difficult to say goodbye, even when we can be there. somehow it just never seems be enough. I remember whispering into my daughter’s ear, telling her that it was okay to go, that I would be okay, but it still didn’t seem like I had done enough and of course, it was a lie.

    • My mother felt the same about it for the longest time. She thought there was hope and that it was her decision that was responsible for him leaving us. However, that was a lie and that decision gave him peace. It took me a lot of time to get her out of that zone. Goodbyes are extremely hard, there is no doubt about that.

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Deepansh Khurana

Blogger and writer from Dehradun, India. I'd say I love coffee but don't we all? I find stories, people and experiences. I blog about them.

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