Tales from a twisted mind

Moving on...    Seven years ago, I lost my dad on this day. 31st May shall never be the same again.    I am struggling to put my thoughts into words, staring at the blank page trying to assimilate them into a coherent flow, while Florence sings ‘Hunger’ in the background. Although I titled this post as ‘Moving on..’, I find myself at a loss in doing that either.    Maybe using an analogy might work? Maybe not? Who knows.     Why is it that I am unable to move on from my dad’s death? It is a question which baffles me till now.    His death happened all of a sudden - just an hour ago before his passing, he got up to use the washroom. I remember saying a prayer for him, before leaving for work. Next thing, I get a call from my sister to come home soon.     A frantic chase ensued, where I was playing catch-up with them and reach the hospital just in time. He was declared dead on arrival. ...

   The reflection staring back at him was his own.     There he stood, in the darkness of the room, all lights out but for the faint sliver, which crept from below the small space between the curtain and the floor. Although it was not much, he could make out the outline of his nose. Even in the darkness, he knew how perfect he looked.     He raised his fingers and slowly caressed his cheekbone. Until recently, they bore the scars of acne he had while growing up. Undertaking massive skin care treatments, they became a thing of the past now. He moved his fingers again and this time, lightly touched his lips. They felt full and soft. He could not believe how dry and chapped they used to be at one point.     He ran his fingers through the mane of thick hair on his head. He recalled the amount of products he used to kept them soft and silky over the years, after having re-grown them post getting a transplant. He took pride whenever people com...