Over time, I realised something.
The more integrated we become within ourselves,
the less we relate to people only through their physical presence.
We begin to recognise something deeper.
We begin to encounter the essence of the person.
Their truest self starts to resonate
with the deepest part of our own being.
And perhaps that is why my grief has taken this shape.
I do not particularly miss my father's body.
I miss his laughter at times.
I miss hearing his voice.
I miss the simple privilege of sitting beside him.
But I do not feel as though I have lost him.
Because I never loved a body.
I loved him.
His kindness.
His humour.
His courage.
His heart.
His essence.
And that essence is not something
I believe death was able to erase.
For me, death changed the way I experience my father.
It did not convince me that he had ceased to exist.
There is an unexpected peace in that realisation.
Not because grief disappears.
But because love is no longer confined
to what my eyes can see.
The settling, then,
is not the absence of sorrow.
It is the quiet understanding
that what I truly loved
was never limited to flesh.
And because of that...
I do not believe that what I truly loved is gone.
Recorded by LRQC
2 August 2026