That, Dad.

Hey, Dad.

It's me.

I finally understand you.

It's been 2.5 years since you died but for some reason, I've only been able to analyse & deduce certain things at this moment.

Much as you were largely missing (literally) throughout my adult life, it is only now that we share this common thread.

Nothing happens by chance.
Everything happens for a reason.

It took That for me to realise this after cartwheels inundated my faculty of mind.

Dad, I'm really, really sad right now and there's nobody who'd understand it but you.

Of all people, it's you, whom I was never close to nor gotten along with.

It's you, the one who'd left when I was 21 and appeared a decade later in the form of a lifeless body.

Maybe that's why you gave up on life.

Perhaps that's why you'd chosen to walk into the hospital with your documents in tow on the eve of your passing, fully aware that death was nigh.

You had it all thought out.

You'd chosen to die.

It was a conscious choice.

And as the infection sapped remnant life from your being, you were released from that which you'd repressed all these years.

You were a CFA, an accountant of repute at one point. Such excellence had your boss rewarding you with a Rolex and fat bonuses.

Yet, all these fell away. You were nothing but a shrivelled figure, depleted of the pulsating drivel which pervaded life when my eyes fell upon you.

Your heart had died. And so had you.

Hey, Dad.

It's me.

And I, understand you. Finally.