Losing people you love, twice within three years feels like a joke. Sometimes it feels like life is some sick son of b*tch who revels in the pain and grief of others. While, I’ve had to do this twice — placing my oldest brother and my father in their final resting place didn’t feel different then when we had memorials separately for them. The same panic, regret, anger, and exhaustion consumes me. That phase of so many things running through my mind that all I can feel is a numbness. Checking out from the world, and just laying here, wishing I could sleep for days. Bargaining for something, whether it’s selfishly a little bit of relief or a real live moment with those who are gone. I can’t tell you where I developed the “suppression of feelings” from. But somewhere along the way, my being felt that it’s what I’m supposed to do. But I’m fighting that, trying to share a little more. I feel so much sadness. My heart aches, and I want to be alone. I want to curl up into my bed and shut the world out for a contradictory “long little while.” I want to see nothing, and hear nothing, and do nothing. I want to be angry at everyone and everything. I want to feel like I can conquer the world pulsing though my veins. I want to find peace and stability without thinking I have to be strong or put on a straight face. I want to just BE vulnerable for days. But then, life goes on for me, doesn’t it? I still have to eat, and talk, and work, and do the things that I do as I do. Placing my family was just part of my life, and it hurts no less, no more, than anyone else. Because my clear mind knows that even though these devastating moments were not okay — I will be. But today I am not, and maybe tomorrow I will not. Some days in between, I may stare blankly at my ceiling from morning to night. It’s those days I know become rare, but will still exist. On the other days, I hope to find more peace to my puzzle. Sunnie & ba, I love you, and I miss you every single day of my life.
With love,
C.