The difficulty of describing a void
It is well nigh impossible to properly describe a vacuum or a void. Presence can be seen, touched, smelt… absence, however can only be felt.
And that is how the void hit me immediately as I stepped into my parent’s house. The first glance would be to my mom who would have opened the door and then immediately, I would look to the bed on the right where my dad would have been invariably laying down…
The bed is neatly set up in its usual place.
Gone are those Bhagvad Gitas and poetry books he used to sleep with.
Gone is that picture book I had made for him from our trip to his birthplace that he held close to him.
Gone is that curious looking hammer that used to be around to used as paper weight.
It is all just gone.
A chapter has been closed.
The bed is now prepped up, neat and clean, to start its next chapter. Whatever that might be.