The Lost Limb

I often forget that people have fathers. Ever since I lost mine I get a bit surprised when I overhear my friends speaking to theirs. When it happened I wired my brain to think it was something normal, an experience everyone was meant to push through, like growing old with a

father was rare. I’ve consumed so much tragedy in the media and silently mourned for the loved ones of fictional characters, but nothing in the world teaches you how to cope with personal grief. Everyone deals with loss differently and I still can’t explain how I dealt with mine. I’m not even sure I’m fully settled with the reality of it all. I did find an analogy that I thought was suitable, and though it isn’t as devastating, I think losing a loved one is similar to losing a limb.

It’s like losing a piece of you that you were born with. It’s terrifying learning to live without it, going on in life unable to rely on that piece that made you complete. Sure replacements might come up, but it’ll never be the same as the original, and the phantom pain will always linger. 

Moments will come and force you to reminisce on the days you still had it. My dad was a piece of me, he was a part of everyone in the family. Losing him was so surreal and I went days waiting for someone to say they pulled a disgustingly sick prank on me. I wasn’t so lucky, things got worse before they could be bearable. Just as he was a part of me, he was the glue, he held all sides together and handled any issues. The glue had dissolved and everyone began to take their piece. One thing about grief is it doesn’t make room for chaos, having to process and juggle the insanity all at once was confusing. One moment I was laughing and the next I felt guilty, because should I really be smiling when he couldn’t.

Some days I even felt happy he was gone, he was in a lot of pain before it happened and I’ve forced myself to believe he’s at peace.

His passing seemed inevitable to me even if it didn’t to all the others, I thought I would handle it better because it was expected but the way it happens doesn’t change the fact that it did. I was and still am grateful for the support and family I had through it all but the situation opened my eyes to things I couldn’t have even imagined. The betrayals and lack of concern or care for his life, the way everyone fought over pieces of wealth he left behind. Grief doesn’t just affect you as a person, it makes you see people in a different light as well. It exposes the greed hiding in the people you call family and shows you who to hold on to.

Once you face it once you see it everywhere too, death and loss turn from stories you give condolences to a reality. I constantly pondered the ‘what next’ that I never even thought about. 

Grief doesn’t discriminate, and regardless of how young I was it came after me hard. I hated everyone and everything, even my dad for leaving so traumatically. It became easier with time as they said, unfortunately it never left though, a scent or word or even color can call up the repressed memories from nowhere and intercept a normal day.

Alas, it is a privilege to grieve, it means I loved, and what is life without love. I would trade a lot for a day with my dad but I would never wish to have never experienced the love I had for him to avoid that pain.

He wasn’t perfect of course, but he made my life as bright as he could and he did everything for his children. Grief never leaves but the memories and love don’t either. I hate that I had to lose that limb but I know nothing will ever perfectly replace it either. I’m grateful I had it in the first place and could experience what it had to offer. It’s hard going along without it, and it’s even harder seeing people have theirs but I have other limbs. I have other parts of me that I’ve learned to love before I lose them too. I miss my lost limb dearly everyday, but it left me with so

much, and I’d be stupid not to recognize how lucky I was to. 

Written by, Amina Abdulkareem