Psychologists say that when a person’s father or mother dies, the crying and screaming that follow are not really because of deep love for the parent. While the parent was alive, they were often ignored, treated as insignificant, left to wither away in some corner of the house.
But when the parent dies, people beat their chests and mourn loudly. This is regret. It has little to do with death itself.
Death gives an inner shock. It suddenly wakes you up. It shakes you and forces you to see: What did I do to my father?
Now the pain deepens because forgiveness can no longer be asked. You cannot hold their feet and beg for pardon. That opportunity is gone forever.
From that moment on, your unhealed guilt follows you like a shadow.
That is why, for centuries, people perform rituals, observe ancestral days, worship during Pitru Paksha, hang photographs of their fathers, and offer flowers to those photographs. I see flowers placed on pictures of dead fathers in many homes— but while the father was alive, no flowers were ever offered.
I have never seen anyone place two flowers every morning at the feet of a living father. Giving even two meals to a living father is often considered a great favor. People do not even like to look at their living fathers.
Yet the moment the father dies, photographs are made, memorial temples are built, monuments are erected—everything possible is done.
This is not respect for the father. This is repentance. This is inner pain seeking a covering.
