"the uncelebrated birthday"

(tw: death) a heartfelt message from a daughter sharing her grief on her father's birthday.

yesterday was your birthday. we were supposed to cut cake and sing while you begged us not to make a big deal of it. yesterday, you were supposed to celebrate turning 54 but lie about being 25 when anyone asked. yesterday you should have been laughing about how old you were getting and made me promise to take care of you. i wouldn't have believed you if you told me you wouldn't be here for it.

i keep scrolling through the pictures on my phone, driving myself insane because i still don't know how to cope with losing you. each captured cheesy grin reminds me of a distinct childhood memory that seems to have gone forgotten. your goodbye message to me keeps replaying in my mind, and i can still hear your voice saying the words, "i love you, shreya," even after all these years. part of me is angry with you for leaving me when i needed you the most, and the other part of me is too focused on the gut-wrenching feeling in my chest to care. all my memories with you have become a jumbled mess in my head: the time you taught me to fly a kite, the morning you passed away, the proud expression on your face as i held up my cross-country medal for the first time, the days i visited you in the hospital. i remember everything today as i close my eyes and blow out the candles for you.

lots of love,

shreya vemulapalli