In loving memory of the dead, I shed a tear for the living

I few days back I got a mail from my dad's friend's son—he was trying to contact us desperately as they did not have our present contact number. He had a sad news to convey- his mother had died two months back, the same time my dad was hospitalized for an angioplasty after a heart attack.

We went visiting the recent widower as soon as we could. He sat at his desk in his office when we met him. He looked fragile, ready to break into pieces but still hanging on to something. He started talking about how his wife was unwell since the beginning of the year and how guilty he felt for not doing his best to save her. He felt anger sometimes for her denial to get treatment as if she wanted nothing else but to die. As he spoke, his emotional waves swayed him from the past to the present and almost consuming him in an abyss of the unknown future. The wast loneliness that awaits him without her. He spoke about how she lived her life on her own terms, being stubborn and getting her own way even if it hurt her the most. And how it could have been better if they had a chance to live together some more. Now every day seemed a heavy load to be dragged on to its end.

We went to the grave where she lay in peace. My eyes started to water. I understood that those tears were not for the woman laying in her grave but for the man who stood staring at the grave with such endearment as if she was there, regretting his missed chances to live a fulfilling life with her when she was alive.

Hug someone you love and
Tell them how much you care
Cause when they are gone,
No matter how loud you shout and cry
They wont hear you or come back