I have no words to convey what I am feeling right now Manisha. This essay was heartbreaking and soothing at the same time. I cried through it and smiled at the memories. You've given us all a precious window into your world and, in some ways, my world, too, even though I was so much younger. Today, the faded memories of childhood have resurfaced like a tornado. You are a master storyteller, but this essay is not a study in craft. It is something else - a gentle ode to your father, who would undoubtedly be immensely proud of you. Lots of love.
Fathers and Daughters! In all the shades of life. Sending you much love and hugs Manisha. To say anything about your writing is like saying the earth goes around the sun.
I was not prepared for an essay like this, this morning. Like Natasha said, this essay is soooo many things. I was not prepared, but as with life and personal essays such as this, I have been offered a lot when I was least expecting it. Beautifully expressed, in your very distinct voice. I love reading your essays but especially the ones you write about your father. Big hug to you.
Manisha! This essay is so many things. A world in itself. Multi-generational conflicts and connections. A loss that you never let go till it transformed into a guiding light in your own heart.
Thank you Natasha! I am sitting with myself and this essay today. Will respond more thoughtfully to your generous comment, once the memories of this day pass over.
Oh Manisha. How did you write such a beautiful and heartbreaking essay, and how did your writing voice remain so calm and reassuring through it? It feels like it stops time, this piece, everything seeming to slow down while I read it. Hugs to the 11-year-old and the 52-year-old.
Poignant and brave! I have tried very often to imagine what it has meant for you, your mother and siblings to carry on after losing him so young. But it is wonderful how you've kept him close and can give shape to your love and longing. More power to you.
No words for the 11 year old or the 52 year old…..your grief reaches me in ways I don’t understand or have words for. I’ve been crying all through as I read this and beyond
Manisha I read this today and sat in silent awe for a long time. So poignant your flow of words as you take us through the heartbreaking grief and the moments of celebration, beautifully conveying how life and time keeps moving. and memories always remain.
More than once I have read this since the day you first posted it. The perspective of the driveway is so unique. This conversation will keep evolving, the questions may keep changing, but what clarity in the words. A very special essay. 💗💙
Only you could write of grief and celebrating life and the living in the same breath with such exquisite care, Manisha. I can see you in that driveway, the dismantled tents and want to give your 11-year old self a big hug. Just as much as I admire the wisdom of the 52-year old who has allowed herself to go to this place of vulnerability with such gentleness. Thank you for this. I suspect your father would be very proud.
I have no words to convey what I am feeling right now Manisha. This essay was heartbreaking and soothing at the same time. I cried through it and smiled at the memories. You've given us all a precious window into your world and, in some ways, my world, too, even though I was so much younger. Today, the faded memories of childhood have resurfaced like a tornado. You are a master storyteller, but this essay is not a study in craft. It is something else - a gentle ode to your father, who would undoubtedly be immensely proud of you. Lots of love.
This was a gut-wrenching, soul-expanding portrayal of a life lost too soon. Lots of love and healing to you...
Fathers and Daughters! In all the shades of life. Sending you much love and hugs Manisha. To say anything about your writing is like saying the earth goes around the sun.
I was not prepared for an essay like this, this morning. Like Natasha said, this essay is soooo many things. I was not prepared, but as with life and personal essays such as this, I have been offered a lot when I was least expecting it. Beautifully expressed, in your very distinct voice. I love reading your essays but especially the ones you write about your father. Big hug to you.
Manisha! This essay is so many things. A world in itself. Multi-generational conflicts and connections. A loss that you never let go till it transformed into a guiding light in your own heart.
I will be reading this many times over 🌸🩷
Thank you Natasha! I am sitting with myself and this essay today. Will respond more thoughtfully to your generous comment, once the memories of this day pass over.
Oh Manisha. How did you write such a beautiful and heartbreaking essay, and how did your writing voice remain so calm and reassuring through it? It feels like it stops time, this piece, everything seeming to slow down while I read it. Hugs to the 11-year-old and the 52-year-old.
Oh Manisha. Even though I knew this ,each time you write ,it gives me goosebumps. Hugs my friend, till I hug you in person.
Poignant and brave! I have tried very often to imagine what it has meant for you, your mother and siblings to carry on after losing him so young. But it is wonderful how you've kept him close and can give shape to your love and longing. More power to you.
No words for the 11 year old or the 52 year old…..your grief reaches me in ways I don’t understand or have words for. I’ve been crying all through as I read this and beyond
Very beautiful. Can see the house, the colours, the pain, the celebrations. Thank you for sharing this with us.
Lots of hugs. It is so beautifully written!
Manisha I read this today and sat in silent awe for a long time. So poignant your flow of words as you take us through the heartbreaking grief and the moments of celebration, beautifully conveying how life and time keeps moving. and memories always remain.
More than once I have read this since the day you first posted it. The perspective of the driveway is so unique. This conversation will keep evolving, the questions may keep changing, but what clarity in the words. A very special essay. 💗💙
Everything slowed down Manisha as I read you. Hugs
Fantastic essay. So heartfelt, so wise and so vivid.
Only you could write of grief and celebrating life and the living in the same breath with such exquisite care, Manisha. I can see you in that driveway, the dismantled tents and want to give your 11-year old self a big hug. Just as much as I admire the wisdom of the 52-year old who has allowed herself to go to this place of vulnerability with such gentleness. Thank you for this. I suspect your father would be very proud.