I was around 8 when I bought my first bicycle. Dad, with utmost care, bought me one of those kids bicycle with supporting wheels on it. I rode it till I got bored and wanted to get rid of those supporting wheels, and thus began my first bicycle training with Dad.
He used to grab my cycle from behind since I haven't found my balance yet, used to run along with me, doesn't matter what speeds I rode in, true care. It was the same for a few more days. One fine evening, we went for a training session. I was riding with my Dad's support and suddenly noticed I don't hear his footsteps running with me anymore. I turn back and he was looking at me from a fair distance and smiling, such pride in his face, his son had finally learnt his balance. I ride a few more feet and thump!, fell on my hands and knees and the road gave me a few scratches.
I get home, hurt and bleeding. I imagine the usual scenario at home when I return from street cricket with similar wounds, but Mom was so calm, took care of my wounds. We had dinner and went to bed. In bed at night, I stay up thinking, "why did Dad let go of my cycle?" "why Mom didn't give me a new lecture for my wounds?" "what changed?" "have I grown up?" (a childhood wish). Took me 24 years to understand what had happened and I bet it'll take a few more to be there and do it.
My Dad must've known I would crash and fall at some point, he must've known it was necessary for me to learn to get back up when I fall down and in the process learn how to ride a bicycle. All these years I've been told that there's no greater love than our parents' love for us. How was he able to overcome his love and care for his son to let go of his bicycle, being well aware of what was going to happen next, simple, he knew when to let go.
Sometimes we hold on to people, so much for so long that we just can't let go of them. No matter how much it is necessary to do so, even when they decide to leave us or fate decides to separate us. It all depends on the maturity level of a human being. It doesn't mean we're rude/stupid, it just means that we're not mature enough to let go. We couldn't weigh our love for them against the necessity to let go.
This isn't just any blog entry, this isn't funny like my other blogs supposedly are. I write this blog with tears in my eyes and pain in my heart. I lost a friend, a brother, my pillar and my well-wisher. Without him it's never gonna be the same. I miss him and I'll always do. I haven't learnt the art, to let go, I'm still immature. In the coming years, I believe I'll have the strength and maturity to let go. Letting go (not "giving up") takes years to mature and then some, to practice.
I sincerely hope that, when I grow up like my Dad, I would have the heart to let go and the maturity to accept the necessity to let go. As I wipe my tears off, I pray to God and the angels of the heaven to be with me, strengthen me and inculcate in me, the ability to let go. The memories that make me cry now, will be my most prized treasures in the years to come, these memories will make me feel alive and show me that my life was worth living.
He used to grab my cycle from behind since I haven't found my balance yet, used to run along with me, doesn't matter what speeds I rode in, true care. It was the same for a few more days. One fine evening, we went for a training session. I was riding with my Dad's support and suddenly noticed I don't hear his footsteps running with me anymore. I turn back and he was looking at me from a fair distance and smiling, such pride in his face, his son had finally learnt his balance. I ride a few more feet and thump!, fell on my hands and knees and the road gave me a few scratches.
I get home, hurt and bleeding. I imagine the usual scenario at home when I return from street cricket with similar wounds, but Mom was so calm, took care of my wounds. We had dinner and went to bed. In bed at night, I stay up thinking, "why did Dad let go of my cycle?" "why Mom didn't give me a new lecture for my wounds?" "what changed?" "have I grown up?" (a childhood wish). Took me 24 years to understand what had happened and I bet it'll take a few more to be there and do it.
My Dad must've known I would crash and fall at some point, he must've known it was necessary for me to learn to get back up when I fall down and in the process learn how to ride a bicycle. All these years I've been told that there's no greater love than our parents' love for us. How was he able to overcome his love and care for his son to let go of his bicycle, being well aware of what was going to happen next, simple, he knew when to let go.
Sometimes we hold on to people, so much for so long that we just can't let go of them. No matter how much it is necessary to do so, even when they decide to leave us or fate decides to separate us. It all depends on the maturity level of a human being. It doesn't mean we're rude/stupid, it just means that we're not mature enough to let go. We couldn't weigh our love for them against the necessity to let go.
This isn't just any blog entry, this isn't funny like my other blogs supposedly are. I write this blog with tears in my eyes and pain in my heart. I lost a friend, a brother, my pillar and my well-wisher. Without him it's never gonna be the same. I miss him and I'll always do. I haven't learnt the art, to let go, I'm still immature. In the coming years, I believe I'll have the strength and maturity to let go. Letting go (not "giving up") takes years to mature and then some, to practice.
I sincerely hope that, when I grow up like my Dad, I would have the heart to let go and the maturity to accept the necessity to let go. As I wipe my tears off, I pray to God and the angels of the heaven to be with me, strengthen me and inculcate in me, the ability to let go. The memories that make me cry now, will be my most prized treasures in the years to come, these memories will make me feel alive and show me that my life was worth living.