One month passed since the incident happened but the pain was still the same. My dad was discharged from hospital but he was not at all in his senses. The head injuries that he sustained was pretty severe. I would call them as the scary times of our lives when we had to spend sleepless nights as someone has to look after that. He used to start running or shouting or hitting or crying and we have to calm him down. If it was not for my mother’s courage we wouldn’t have survived all that. We use to visit dad occasionally but it was my mom who was there 24*7 doing every possible thing and suffering every single moment. All that we knew that time was that this can’t be our destiny, we had faith that God saved him for something better and one day he will be back to normal. And it was this faith that keep us moving. We used to support each other and find solace in our individual faiths.
Meanwhile, I was being tortured by my boss for taking leaves and not being focused on my PhD completely ignoring what I was going through. He used to humiliate me everyday and I had to pretend in front of my mom that I’m doing well as I couldn’t burden her more. Every morning I used to wake up, drag myself to lab, work, come back and cry to sleep. Those days my only motto was: Wake up, survive and go back to bed.
I use to sit for hours thinking will it get better, will I ever laugh again???