text: There are very few people who can find friends in their own families, and I am one of those. My father was my best friend, not like Lorelai in Gilmore Girls, and I don't think there is any movie that has shown it until now. He has been my best friend when my friends deceived me or when I needed an ear or a partner in crime. He has been there invariably. Losing that person can kill us. And it did. I am just alive physically, and I continue to do my part in this world as it is my responsibility; otherwise, I was gone when he left, too. I craved little things like a good morning message or just one phone call and mostly to receive all those forwarded messages in my WhatsApp he used to forward to all the groups. He never bothered if anyone read them and just sent it to everyone if he found it helpful. People don't miss the big things mainly, but the little stuff, the mundane happenings that pass by in life a million times and barely pay attention to them. The one wish of wanting to hear his voice kept growing. Of course, I replay all the voice notes and videos innumerable times. But those are past events. I want him in my present. Since it's not possible, I replay everything until I fall asleep. On my tough days, rebellious days, the day I broke my hand and cleared my exams with 97%, he was with me through every big and small piece of the journey. If he was physically not around, he called me. He constantly reminded me,' I am not just your parent; I am also your friend. So remember that on the days you feel uncomfortable discussing with me.' I didn't confer all the gory details, but he meant that he was there even when there were instances I couldn't open up to him. On his tough days, I got to know him well after the fact. He shares the details with me, but only when it's way too much. That's why I was always observant. I know he is a giver, so I don't wait until he asks and ensure I am there for him. We always knew this was a special relationship and it's rare existence. Sadly enough, there is no forever in this world. It has to end at some point. We cherished every moment we possibly had, and it is still not enough. Never enough. In fact, we always joked that when one of us died, we would be there in each other's lives like a ghost and haunt each other to be present. Maybe that was our way of not accepting that life will come to an end someday, and we never know when. When that day actually came, the whole world shattered. It came to a screeching halt. My life was like a sports car going at 150 kmph and came to a sudden stop when I heard the news. It didn't matter what ended in my life since the news. He lived a happy life and passed peacefully, too. The fact that he won't be around is not something that I could digest, though. So, my life was over, too. My decision-making skills vanished, my passion and curiosity disappeared; everything went away and passed into thin air. It took me days or months, or I don't know how long until that day. ************************************************************ It was a sunny day, and I had back-to-back meetings for hours. I needed to be in the office and couldn't get out of bed early. So, after the first round of calls, I started to office. I didn't expect much traffic since it was not the peak hour. I had slotted 45 minutes before my next meeting. I wanted to grab some lunch on the way as well. With that, I was out of the door. People living in high-rise buildings may enjoy the impeccable scenery from their windows, but all that happiness evaporates when they need to wait for the elevator. The worst are the mornings and evenings. It takes forever to go down 25 floors as everyone would need the lift. Trust me when I say this: It takes a whole song, i.e., around 4 to 5 minutes, to reach the ground floor. Hence, I love the mid-days and late nights as I can just power to the parking directly. I got in the lift, and with my clumsiness at peak as usual, I dropped my keys, and as I was trying to pick them up, I dropped my mug. Thank God for those spill-proof mugs, and when I drop them, I at least save myself from the embarrassment of losing my dignity and my coffee in one go. I swore immediately in frustration and said, 'Why me, paa?' Then I heard, ' It's ok, Moni, stuff happens, don't get all worked up like that' in Dad's voice. I froze. I couldn't pick up my mug and lost all strength to grab the keys. I kept questioning if this was a dream in that bent-down posture. God knows it is all my imagination from the vertigo that hit my head as I am still bent down with my head up, looking around like a clown. How can I prove it's not a dream? The classic pinch-me technique? But there is no one here. How am I going to get an answer? And all of a sudden, I hear the lift announcing - 'Ground floor, doors opening'. I was still standing there, frozen and unmoved. As the doors opened, his voice only said, 'Have a good day now, my dear daughter and Moni, don't waste your valuable talent. Remember to keep yourself relevant. Always create your value wherever you are.' He was gone before I could whip up a word. I realised someone staring at me, waiting to get into the lift. I am still bent over with my stuff on the floor. As someone was getting in, I just grabbed everything and got out. It took me 5 minutes to find my car instead of a minute I usually take since I seem to have forgotten all my reality. His voice is still reverberating in my head, but nothing is going into my head. I am in the car with no memory of how to drive. ************************************** I swear I kept questioning myself if it was time to consider an asylum and if it's not too late. I mean, it's been three months; how could I be hearing his voice now? Don't they say that our favourite people come back to haunt us in the initial month before we do their final rites? We did everything as per the books so that we could send him to his eternal resting place in a proper manner. It took all my strength and my sister's, but we did our best. Who should I talk to? My therapist would undoubtedly say that things like this happen because of grief. Should I go to a priest instead? But Dad isn't haunting me. I merely heard his voice, and I have no idea what is real. That day, I completed all the work my team members filled in for me as I grieved. They were not unhappy when I took the reins back. I returned home carrying the takeaway I could get even though I was sure no food would reach my stomach. Even if it does, there is no way it is staying in. But people gotta eat. I waited for the same lift even though there were others. Again, people gave me a weird look when I didn't get in, even when there was a place. I was stubborn to see if I made it up or if it happened to me. I got into the lift and realised I wasn't alone. Their floor was above mine, so we shared the ride, and I got down at 25. I was so reluctant to get out, but she would be suspicious that I pressed 25 and didn't get out. When something happens, our responses are usually based on our past experiences. And that past literally keeps coming up in our head in waves like how they show in Indian Serials: everything replays in sepia mode, and the emotional music with multiple zooms. I took the time to calm myself down first, even though every element in my body was not calm, even in a single cell of my body. What can I do though? He is no more, and I need to somehow bring myself to reality. I am an indolent person, that's why I like being organised. Like James Clear says, lazy people are the cleanest ones because they don't like redoing things. Once I reach home, there is no way I like stepping out of the house again. I am not attached to the house, but I don't prefer leaving it either. But the thoughts of going in that lift again and again and trying to see what happened don't stop. I tried to call him out in the house, but it was the same silent lull there. I would give anything to have him in my life because it keeps me sane. I just want Dad. All my relationships failed. All my life, I had bad friends other than 1 or 2 people. So, there is no one to fill that void. He was my whole life: the thought I woke up to, the call I ended my day with, the message I looked forward to, the suggestion, honest advice or even my therapist, my everything. Shortly, my "soulmate". So hearing his voice gave me that boost, like how drug addicts felt. Then, everything came to a standstill. ********************************* Once I managed to calm myself down, I got some sleep, and I slept for hours like a baby. I haven't slept like that in months. I woke up early in the morning, as was my tradition before the work hours; I decided to give it another shot with a calm head. I went to the lift lobby, and to my dismay, that lift took a long time. When it did come, there was someone in there. I got in and decided to go for a walk. I stood in the lift, closing my eyes, and I had a startle when I heard his voice again, 'Good morning Moni'. That's when I realised that there was no one. Looks like that other person got down, and I didn't even realise. So, my guess was correct: I needed to be alone in the elevator. Is it just this one? Or does it work with others, too? Is this lift like a portal to the past. Way toooooo many questions. Uff. This time, I managed to say, 'Good morning, paa. I miss you. He said,' Me too', and I reached the floor before debating whether I should get out or not. Someone was waiting on the other end, which meant I should get out. And so our journey continued. I had a short chat with him every day. I started getting out of the house at odd times so that I get to talk to him. It kept me going. So I never bothered to tell anyone. Because what if I told them and lost the one good thing I had going as well. I started becoming fitter because I don't stay in the house anymore, and I go for short walks around the building while the lift gets free for my next ride. I didn't know what was happening. I just know his voice is heard in that elevator when I am alone. ***************************************** Life kept going after that. I didn't feel so lonely anymore. I looked forward to the morning and evening chats with Dad. I haven't spoken about it to anyone. I tried to record his voice on my phone, but it didn't seem to work, so I took solace in the fact that I still have him in some form. It still used to scare me at times if I became one of those people who imagine their loved one's presence in their life long after they are gone. Proving this to anyone is impossible, so I decided to take the benefit and stay sane or insane, whichever it is. I managed to thrive in my work and stay healthy as well. I felt like there was something to look forward to even if I still came back to my home alone. Life is never fair to anyone, but there is always a little light if we choose to see it. I had reduced my travelling, but I read a lot and sleep way better now. I don't feel like gagging at the thought of having to eat delicious food, which I can never share with him. I continued to share the stories of the books I read with him, and he continued to impart his knowledge about various topics. Then came a day where everything felt bleak, as always. We all know those days; we all lived through those days. We question our own existence and the point of our lives. On top of it, I failed to do a simple presentation for which I had prepared for a whole week. Additionally, I stand to lose my job because of that one mistake. Even though it has been a toxic workplace with all the internal politics and gossip, I still gave my best. I felt like running away from there, but where to? Can I be a hippie? What's the point? I became one of those people who barely has a life, who talks to her dad in an elevator. Sounds pathetic, and that's me. I entered the women's bathroom and broke down to realise there was no privacy. I tried to enter a fire exit, but the doors were blocked. If you have never been to the fire exits in a corporate office, let me tell you that it's the most peaceful place you can find. But since it's unavailable, I headed to the terrace with the lift. I cried so much that the tissue in my hand was soggy, and that's all I had. Then came Dad's voice: 'What's real and what's not? Can anyone prove that you are real and I am not? ' The only thing in my head is: Umm, How the hell did I not know that he would be there here too? How stupid and dumb am I. His voice was clear as a 5g wifi call. I asked him, 'If so, then why did you go. I just need you and your hug. I want to take trips to the Himalayas with you that we planned all our lives but never managed to. Celebrate the festivals together and show you off to the whole world because you are the best one out there.' It was so quiet, like my life on an early morning, as I stared through my windows when my ex left. Perhaps Dad left, too. Probably, this is just some psychological problem, and he was my imagination. Then Dad said, 'Close your eyes'. I felt some warmth like actually being hugged, and before I reacted, it was over. I asked, 'Was it you? Are you really there?' and he just responded with a sad voice, 'Always'. I was frozen and could only feel as my skin reacted with goose pimples because of his presence for the first time in a very long time. I realised I was reaching the terrace and asked him how he materialised only in an elevator. He said, I have no idea how, but know that I am always here. To which I asked, 'In any of them?' and he responded, 'Yes! ' A bad day is just a bad day, not a bad life. I found a new job and a new home and moved to a new place. The new changes brought in good friends and a healthy work atmosphere. I continued my chats with Dad: Through my chemo treatments, through my old age and the days when it all came together. He was there until my last breath. I don't know if this is true for everyone. I was blessed to have him in his afterlife, too. There were a lot of unanswered questions. Would I have been able to talk to my grandparents? Is that why Mum suddenly woke up complaining of dreams where the grandma who passed away informed her of the future. It's so weird. But because I had dad, I never bothered if anyone else also had people to talk to. I was just too scared to lose him in this conventional world. Speaking to a psychiatrist is easy, but what if they said it's just my imagination. Is there a point in living? I made my life worthwhile but also kept him with me. It was my little secret. Today, I left the earth and hovered over my niece and nephew, waiting for them to summon me, for I cannot call upon them. If they need me, I am there. Seeing how independent their lives are as they grow up makes me so happy. After being busy all our lives, The happiest part is Dad and I are in the same space now, and we both sit and stare at the Manasarovar Lake on a bench. It was our dream for years, and now, we sit there in peace. This is all I need.