Flash

I wish I had told you earlier

Dearest Logan,

It’s the first time I’m writing you a letter son, and can’t help but wish I had done it earlier. To be honest, I don’t know where to start, what to say. Can this tiny piece of paper contain all the emotions simmering under my skin? I don’t know, but I’ll try my best.

I miss you Logan, it’s lonely without you here. Each day is a torment, an agony. It has been over a month, and I’m still struggling to cope. Your sister keeps a strong facade throughout the day, especially in front of me. But when I stroll out of my room on sleepless nights, her sniffles and sobs make their way out the door to me . I never asked her about it. She’s carrying mountains of grief on her shoulders, and I don’t want to add to her troubles.

Though I’m the major cause of them.

After you and your mother gone, its only her I can cling to. Never had I thought our family would see this day. Zoe has started to pack all your things in cardboard boxes. Your wardrobe has been emptied, shoes and other accessories removed. Your most prized possession, your guitar, has been encased with great care. I’m not giving it away. This task took Zoe two days. She spent half of the first day crying. I wish I could comfort her. But I’m weak Logan. So timid. My incapability to face my emotions head on has always been one of my greatest flaws.

Yes, my son, I’m flawed. My skin is dotted with imperfections, just like any other person. It is nothing to be ashamed of;I wish I had told you that. As your father, I failed the ultimate test of parenthood, I wasn’t there when you needed me the most. I wish I had been more trustworthy,more dependable, so that you could’ve counted up on me. It is the gravest mistake of my life. I asked Zoe about it, but she didn’t say anything. Bursting into tears, she pulled me into a tight hug. We cried for an hour.

Your sister had done a fantastic job with our family pictures on the mantelpiece. The other day I watched them for hours, as if expecting them to come to life. Mine and your mother’s wedding picture, followed by Zoe’s birth, and then you came. Youngest in the family, the apple of our eyes. You had the most beautiful eyes I had seen on a newborn. Big and inquisitive. When you held my finger with your tiny hand, I knew I had all the happiness of the world. The picture of your first birthday, when you had cake smeared all over your face, what a day that was! And then, on your first day of school, you amazed us by effortlessly slipping into the classroom and not wailing like the rest of your classmates. Looking at these frames is akin to walking down a familiar lane of a forest. Years flew by. But the memories are etched in my brain, like carvings on the trunks of the trees, fresh and strong.

I’m trying not to cry as I write this, but I want to apologize Logan. I don’t want my pain to be the focus, but yours. I hope it didn’t hurt when you swallowed those sleeping pills; I hope your departure was as painless as it could get. When they brought you here, shrouded in a white cloth, I fainted. In just a day, my entire world had collapsed. The thought of never seeing you again breaks my heart, I don’t know what to do with this pain. Overnight, I felt my soul getting a ton heavier. My body wouldn’t take this amount of grief. Not even Gods can handle it, I’m just a human. Before your last journey, Zoe kissed you on the cheek while I just stared on.

“Papa” she said, choking on the tears.

After few moments, I moved. I knelt down beside you, waiting for tears to stream down. They didn’t. Looked like even they had deserted me. I ran my hand through your hair, like I always did when you were little. Those large eyes that once brimmed with life were closed now. I wish I could’ve held you in my arms like the first day. All I just did was sit there holding your hand, desperately wishing you would hold my finger once again.

When they lowered your coffin into the grave, my legs gave away.

They say people who take their own lives are weak, cowards. Nonsense.

You were never weak Logan, you were the bravest five year old when you endured the pain of getting your wounded forehead stitched.

You were the bravest when you stood up for your friend when he got bullied.

You were the bravest when you took the path less trodden, choosing to follow your passion in a world that’s so accustomed to settling for the mediocre.

And I’m so, so proud of you. I always was. I wish I had told you that. 
From the last week, I’ve resumed my early morning walks on the insistence of the doctor. I forgot to mention I’m seeing too many doctors, including a therapist(He wanted me to write this letter to you). The only change is that I prefer to walk alone now. I can’t bear the pitiful gazes of my friends, or anybody for that matter. Not because I’m ashamed of you. No, never. But in their eyes I see the reflection of my own failures. The world doesn’t care, my son. We live our whole lives thinking of the world, only to realize it goes on, with or without us. And when we do, it’s too late. Like how it’s too late for me now.

When you told me your wish to pursue a musical career, I shouldn’t have casted a doubt. I’m not proud of my behavior, a parent should’ve given sounder advice. Failures and problems are just a part of life, my son. If I had told you that the first time you came home with a failed report card, you would’ve viewed failures in a different light. Maybe you would’ve been with me now, sitting beside me like always, as we played chess. It’s only as I write this I realize how often parents commit mistakes, and how rarely we accept them. But I knew how your heart beat in rhythms, how music coursed through your veins. Nobody would’ve been more happier than me in your success, let it be in music or any other field. It was just my concern, not disbelief. I always had your back Logan, even if I wasn’t that upfront about it.

The last thing I want to tell you is, I love you Logan. How strange are we humans, when we bump into a stranger, immediately a sorry escapes our lips. Still, we leave the most important things unsaid. And then such a time comes, when there are no words left. Only regrets. Hurt. Guilt. It’s not possible for me to go on now, my hands are shaking. The paper is wet with my tears, I must stop before my written words vanish in the pain. Wherever you are my son, be happy. Let the other world not let you down. We’ll meet soon, if I’m lucky enough.

Yours lovingly,

Dad.