The Scientist's Corner

Tag: Grief

  • Coping with Grief: Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

    They say that the night is the darkest before the dawn. Let me be honest here. Brutally honest. When my dad got sick, I was riding the high waves of health… but, tides do crash to the shore. And the the crash was the loss of my dad.
    Loss is a black hole. It consumes you. Some losses, like the one of a grandparent, are easier to cope. You know that they are old. My father? He went to the hospital, smiling, saying – “I will be back, baby”. And came back in a coma. 63 is not the age to die.
    My routine was blown to smithereens. My inner demons of anxiety and panic took the wheel while I was processing everything – from his smile while going to the hospital to his return in a coma. I am 27! Twenty-seven!
    I know that many people have lost parents at a younger age, have been raised by a single parent, or have seen one parent turn their back and never return. I don’t and never will discount their experiences. But when a robust support system around you shatters… you want support. You are anxious for it. Desperate, even.
    I turned to the one that unfortunately was my anchor during university – when I was surrounded by people of equal calibre, where I understood what rigours of academics truly meant – I turned to bingeing. I don’t purge – Or would not have been writing about weight loss. But, people if you do, please, I appeal to you, go to a medical professional for guidance and therapy.
    Now, I gained back 4 kilos. Am I ashamed? Both yes, and no. Yes, because… I worked so hard to lose them. No, because, loss is not easy to face.
    Today, for the first time in three months. I don’t feel like eating junk. And I was like… wow! I feel like I am waking up from a torpor. A deep sleep. My dad, even in the hospital used to tell me – Go to the gym… and then come visit.
    I just called my trainer, again. To tell him – Monday – keep my regular slot open. I am back.
    Will it be easy? No. Am I ready? Yes.
    I am back.
    My progress was not erased. I just took a brief detour.

  • Going Through Grief: The Loss of a Parent

    In this picture, I am 21 years of age – and in my first semester of Master’s. As you can clearly see, it is from Undergrad graduation day. The man on my left… is my father. He passed away on the 10th of December 2025 after a prolonged illness that lasted for 3 months. My lack of updates was because I was spending whatever time I could with him in the hospital… while anticipating grief. The doctors had told us in October – “Prepare yourselves”. Knowing that it will happen and it happening? Both are completely different beasts.
    As an only child, I did not have a favorite parent. The psychology of only children who are brought up in a loving environment… is different. There are some things you share with your Dad. And some things that you share with your Mom. And both nurture a different part within you to make who you become.
    It is not an exaggeration for me to say that I am who I am because of the two people who gave me life. I grew up seeing my Mom and Dad read. I saw my Mom dance to tunes in the kitchen. I saw my Dad laugh to British comedies. I saw my Mom paint landscapes on canvas. Neither asked me to be like them… but I did absorb some of their traits. And brought in my own – to become Srividya Bhagavatula.
    Loss of a parent in your twenties… is weird. You are at a stage where you are not dependent, but you still need their guidance. And right now, half that guidance… is lost. At a crucial stage. As an unmarried daughter, my dad will never see me walk down the aisle. Hell, I have not fallen in love yet… to even make it there.
    He and I shared love for classic movies and books and laughed about them. Now, that is also gone. He inspired me to want to teach… and I always said “Your trainees loved you. I need pointers” Now I will never get those pointers.
    What is left are… memories and laughter… and that pain that I know will always be there… but will only dull with time as I learn to live without his presence.

    I love you, dad… And I will miss you.