01 AUGUST 2015
If there is one thing that is tattooed in my heart, involuntarily, it has to be dates that remind me of people I’ve loved and lost. Today, two years ago, we said our final goodbye to what was the best human being I had the pleasure to call a brother. Well, I virtually said my goodbye, because life did what it does best on being unfair, and I couldn’t make it to the funeral. I still think that’s one factor that has made grieving for him a little harder, especially on days like today. Because on days like today, it feels like I am losing him all over again, for the first time. On days like today, I am still hearing it for the first time that he is no more, I can feel my tears forming in denial and I hear the faded scream until to the point where I have cried my voice away and my body is numb. Except I haven’t done much crying today, and I know for sure my body has to be strong to be able to carry such a heavy heart.
Maybe one day I will accept that he is gone…
And maybe acceptance will come later on when I am done trying to make sense about what hurts the most from the following:
1. Never seeing him again…
2. Realising that at some point I won’t know how his voice sounds like anymore. Or even his laugh.
3. That I have no one to show up for me the way he did. My brother showed up for me more than I ever showed up for myself.
4. Whose gonna love me the way he did? He loved me so much regardless of not sharing both parents. Just having the same blood flowing inside us was good enough for him to go to the ends of the world for my happiness.
5. There will come a day when I need him, days when he is the only person capable of helping me and realising that he is not coming to save me will bring me to my knees.
6. I am angry at the world, for pushing him over the edge that the only solution for him was to take his own life.
7. I hope he knew that he was the best part about my life.
8. I still talk about him as I used to. Most of the time with a voice close to breaking and a big lump stuck in between my throat, that my voice has to force it’s way out. I still talk about him, with more love now.
9. He taught me how to love. The selfish kind of love that heart breaks have come to teach me as ‘too much’.
10. And then sometimes I realise there will never be enough reasons for me to accept that he is gone but I still try, to accept that he is gone.
Sometimes when I think of him, I swear I can hear my heart break apart all over again. On most nights I bury him again, and again and all over again with tears. And sometimes I am very accepting over the fact that he played his role in my life and every day post his death is meant to be as it is. Despite how harder life might be without him.
I am grateful for days when I can think of him, and my lips can still form into a smile over the memories we shared. And then there are days when those memories are the very undoing of my recovery progress and they bring my heart to a standstill. I’ve also learned that both of these days are okay. That I dont owe anyone a fully recovered heart, that has mastered grieving, not even myself. Tonight being alive hurts, tonight I am a beautiful mess and I am okay, with not being okay.
Ps: Return If Possible
