My father is breathing his last.
He is the only support I’ve ever had in life. I lost my mother in infancy, and did not have any siblings. A relationship was initiated, but ended badly due to my insecurities. The girl found me too possessive and clinging.
I hold his hand, as his breathing gets laboured. He takes 2-3 minutes to inhale and exhale once.
“Let me call the doctor, Pop…”
He signals a No with his hand, and speaks in a feeble, broken voice.
“Your parents died in the terrorist blasts of 1994. I brought you up single-handedly after that.”
“Who were my parents?” I’m kind of numb, but my grip on his hand strengthens, proportionate to the urgency in my voice.
“I don’t know. I am the terrorist who planted the bomb. You clung to my trousers, wailing loudly, so I got you home, and never looked back at that life again.”
Wow, shocking!! Poor kiddo, now man finding out this truth! Good Reena!
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Thank you, Susi!
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You’re welcome, Reena!
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Wow! Superb writing, Reena!
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Thank you, Franci!
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My pleasure!
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This seemed so real that I was about to tell you that I was sorry for your loss of your father.
My father died 10 years ago on the 28th of this month.
~cie from poetry of the netherworld~
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Ohh! May his soul rest in peace! I lost mine on 10th November, 1989.
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What a great storyline!
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Thanks, VJ!
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My pleasure, Reena!
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Didn’t see that coming! 👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽
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Thank you 🙂
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Wow!
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Wow, superb tale, Ma’am. 🙂
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Thank you, Aishwarya!
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You are welcome. 🙂
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This is so touching.
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Thank you, Sadje!
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You’re welcome
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