How has it been 2 months already? How is it possible that time is passing by and the world is moving on without you in it? It feels cruel that life is happening and you aren’t here to share our days with us.

I miss you every minute of everyday, Papa, but today that lump in my throat won’t go away at all. I want to talk to you about things that are happening – how Rowan graduated elementary school, how the entire grade performed “A million dreams” and how much I cried in the audience knowing I couldn’t ever show you those pictures or videos.

Friends call and ask me how I’m doing. What do I say to them? I say I’m doing ok, taking one day at a time. And I am doing ok, I really am. But there’s a constant void in my heart now. I look for signs everywhere, everyday. I want to see something that will make me think you are watching over us. And I know you are, because I see those signs everywhere. I have never seen as many red cardinals before as I have in the past few weeks. It’s almost like I think of you, look up to the skies, and ask you to show me a sign and a red cardinal flies by. There’s instant joy and calm in that sight, and then I miss you again.

In the days after you left us, while I was still in India with everyone, I thought I was processing my grief with grace and strength. Now, looking back, I realize I was not processing it at all then. I was just focusing externally, outside of myself. I was focused on making sure Mummy was feeling ok, making sure Sonu and Anjali felt supported in any way possible by me. And then I got on the flight back here, and as the lights dimmed in the cabin, that’s when it all bubbled up and my tears flowed. Non stop.

Coming back here has felt isolating. Alone. Lonely. I find myself in my own thoughts, feeling low very often. I also find myself wishing I lived closer to family and close friends who care, and feeling sad that I’m not.

The thing is, I know I’ll be ok. We’ll all be ok, and I know that’s what you’d want from us. I know you would want us to be strong and to move on, and I know we’re trying, I know I’m trying. But it’s so difficult. Any other situation in life (so far) has had a cushion of hope. Nothing has felt as permanent as this. Nothing we ever do will bring you back. Nothing we ever do will allow us to all be together, even one last time. And that’s so difficult to accept.

I know I’ll be ok, but I also know I miss you, Papa. Every minute of every day.