Loss and resilience

Sometimes losing something or someone whom you value the most, makes you feel invincible.

No matter how shattered you are or how dead you feel inside, you lived. You survived what you never thought you would.

It does feel like 'the you' that existed will never come back - but at times when life tries to beat you down again, you tell yourself, I have been through worse and lived.

I lived 6 months without hearing my mother's voice, I watched her when she breathed her last. Maybe I was hallucinating but at that moment it felt like she locked her gaze with mine. Like she wanted to tell me something.

I lived through that, I will live through anything. 

Grief and Guilt

 The world is a lot less brighter. All its colors are bleached out. The myriad of hues in the sky that would make me stop in my tracks to behold its beauty, does not even affect me anymore. How can a world in which you don't exist be beautiful? It never will be.

When a child loses a parent, he becomes an orphan, when a person loses a life partner he becomes a widower/widow. They say that there is no word for a parent who loses a child because the pain is unbearable. I do not believe that not naming a situation gives it more depth. Because the grief feels unsurmountable to me. Like I will never know true happiness again.

They say that it passes, that the grief goes away. That is where is my guilt comes in. Should it go away?

How can a world in which you don't exist be beautiful? It should never be.

It feels like a disservice to you and the memory of you - to not feel excruciating pain when I think of you, to not tear up. I know you would have wanted me to be happy, to move on, but what are we chasing in life? This life seems too long to live without you around. You went away too soon. You were my everything and I love you beyond measure. Sometimes I want to freeze in my tracks and melt away, seep in to the earth that took you.

Spring is here in all its glory, blooming with colors. 

But in my heart there will be no spring. There will always be a winter - my heart will always be buried 6 feet under the ground. 

The letters

I remember when he used to write to us. An altogether different dimension to him --- something I had never imagined.
I felt lucky to be given a window to his real self, somewhere beneath his hard exterior resided a man who understood us all, loved us more than everything he had and didn't have, who found joy in little things and strived hard for peace of mind. He too like us took little trips down the memory lane--- they made him sad and brought him joy.

He felt different to me but wasn't so different deep down. He too like me wanted simple things in life. He too in this quest made things complicated for himself and for us.
I just wished these intricacies of life would vanish, become intangible so that we give up on them, and he would come back home and just be with us; even if it meant no visits to his heart, no letters, no windows...