Six days from now, we will mark the day my father died a year ago. A whole year. As it approaches, I think back to each day before his death and remember the little things he did. His small movements. Our evening prayers beside his bed at home. His words. His faith. His pain.
When he passed on, I felt a peace I had never felt before. God's way of saying it will all be okay. And so far, we cannot complain. We are all well and are living a comfortable life. I have a great job with awesome colleagues, friends and family. Retisina has finished her second year at uni and Sunema seems to have adapted quite well to life in Samoa. And Mum - our strong, faithful and loving mother is soldiering on despite her heart breaking at the loss of her soulmate and keeping it real for us girls.
Yet, as grateful as I am - a dull, constant pain always accompanies me. Most days, I've accepted it as part of me and I know that with time, it will go away leaving me with only fondness for the memories. But on days like today, I feel so lost and hopeless. I feel a pain so sharp that my heart aches - literally. I miss Dad. I miss him so much. His laugh. His wisdom. His voice. His advice. His love.
What a paradox ey? Peace and pain. Always there.
Despite all this, I come across people who've been through worse losses. A colleague who lost 5 siblings to the Rwandan genocide. A friend taking his own life. And countless others. It doesn't lessen nor remove my pain, but it makes me realize that I should always cherish the people I love, who are still with me - especially Sunema, Retisina and Mum.
Do YOU know how good of a life you have?
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