Dear Adi,
We are in January 2026 now, and it’s my first letter to you this year. It’s been so long since I wrote to you. There’s been so much going on. Even though I haven’t written, you’ve been there constantly in my thoughts.
As I am writing this post, I’m thinking it’s been 11 months since you left us. Next month it will be a year. How time passes, right? Yet I feel I am at the same spot as I was on the day you left us.
The past one year has been quite a different one for us. The three of us learning to live without you, get on with our daily lives, doing what’s necessary. When I look back, I realise the three of us have been in a state of limbo. Just surviving. Doing just enough to get by. Moving from one day to another. And I can say it was no mean feat. It hasn’t been easy at all.
Festivals came and went. Nothing was the same without you. Even the Christmas tree looked sad, without you playing with the decorations. Mana Ba decorated it only because her friends insisted… but it still didn’t feel right. Missed you in every moment.
When you left us, I thought everything ended there. Everything stopped. But that’s the funny thing about life. It doesn’t stop for anyone. As cliché as it sounds, the show must go on!
Even now, every day, I force myself to get through the day. I try to keep myself very busy. Still, there are moments when I feel totally detached from my present. I keep thinking, what is the point of doing anything when I have to continue living in a world without you?
Every time I smile, laugh, or have some fun, I am overcome with guilt. Guilt of being alive when you are not. Guilt of not doing enough for you.
Our home is too quiet. It misses your giggles and your naughtiness. No toys to mess up the house. Nobody to listen to “Proper Education” in a loop, watch bowling matches, cricket matches and laugh.
Nights are still very tough. Sleep eludes me. There are nights when I still stay up crying, unable to reconcile with your loss. My heart cries out, unable to accept that I can’t hold you and hug you anymore.
Sometimes I feel I have turned into a different person. Earlier, I used to call up people, socialise to some extent, and respond to messages. But now, I don’t call up anyone or respond. There’s a sense of apathy towards any form of communication unless it’s absolutely necessary. It feels like a task to talk to someone.
Someday, maybe I will be able to think of you without that constant dull ache. Someday, maybe the pain will be a little less. Someday, maybe I will heal a little. Some nights I wait for the pain to settle, but it doesn’t.
Your memories hit me hard at the oddest of places – inside the gym, on a metro ride, while I am taking a walk, while I am watching a movie… the list is endless. I miss you with a kind of ache that doesn’t leave. I don’t know what the coming months will feel like. I don’t know what healing will look like for me. But I know I will keep missing you, and I will keep loving you—every single day of my life.
Love always,
Mamma
