“And so it is. Life goes easy on me most of the time…”
It has been a while that I have not written here. I don’t know why and how, but after Dad’s death I went more into my own shell and I began to prefer my personal journal more than this public space in the past couple of months. I mean the first few weeks I spoke out just because I felt I had to spread his words to all those who cared about him all throughout the world. But, then, somehow I was hit by the strong desire to go into a seemingly heavy silence. But, really, I was not and am not all that silent. So much is happening on my mind. It feels like a movie played on rewind. I had never thought of any story from the end really. Usually I had thought of the end for the sake of an end. I thought “the end” is simply there in every story and every movie to announce the end of it all. I never thought of it as just the beginning and just as fundamental as the marked beginning of the tale. Nowadays, I have started to realize that beginnings would really perhaps be meaningless without this horrific end that we all escape so hurriedly and fearfully. In my story, the end, despite its ugly looks, is not all that horrific somehow anymore. In my Dad’s death I faced “the end”, in its absolute sense, for the very first time in my life and to my surprise this so-called end injected an incredible doze of energy for life into my bloodstreams. I even feel high sometimes. High on life…So incredibly restless to live life and to observe and listen to the not so obvious noises and sounds of this world more than before. I am writing from the end to the beginning in my solitude and living every second of this story of ours in rewind. And, like you always wished for me, Dad, life goes easy on me, most of the time. And, our fairy tale is more eager than ever to be told.