In May, it will be 2 years since I lost my mother. It feels like it happened yday, but also years ago. For months, I asked the same question as Fleabag: what do I do? What do I do with all the love I have for her? That's when I found SRK's interviews on the loss of his parents. 
I don't think any other figure in the public space has spoken so vulnerably on what it really means. The inability to save them, the regrets about having things left unsaid, the craving to hear their voice one last time.
Or the fact that, even years later, it creates a fear of close attachments. A part of us, which remains cracked, anxious, and lonely. On many nights, I've woken up sweating, afraid that if I love someone too much, they'll be snatched away from me. I've cherished solitude.
But I've kept going back to his interviews. As a reminder that love and loss (and art) can co-exist. They must co-exist. And the lives we lead must be the flowers we put on the graves of people we love. Especially those who gave birth to us.
#ShahRukhKhan𓀠 #WritingCommunity
#ShahRukhKhan𓀠 #WritingCommunity
• • •
Missing some Tweet in this thread? You can try to
force a refresh
