I needed to find some distance, before I wrote this post. A lot of it is just too painful, locked away somewhere in my sub-conscience, revealed in my recurring dreams.

I understand now that grief is the intense longing. No, a desperation, to protect and care for your loved one, but you can’t. The unbearable wish that you can hold them and comfort them (and in that surreal moment maybe bring them back to life, because your brain cannot process that they are no longer with you in physical form.)

You can’t bear the thought that they are all alone. You want to get to them, but you can’t. You don’t know how.

You cannot process how you are still living and breathing and have not crumbled into a million pieces. It’s too painful to be here. Too painful to feel, so you’re completely numb. You’re outside your body, watching yourself. Every breath on earth is excruciating.

You search and plead for signs, any signs that they are still there. It feels like they have gone on a trip, to a destination you can’t know. The timeline is infinite.

As time goes you are filled with regret. All the things you should have done. Perhaps they would have been saved. It’s your fault. You’ll beat yourself up for every unkind thing you said to them or each time you took them so for granted and brushed them aside. Every wrongdoing is magnified.

As years go by, you have no choice, but to live with changed circumstance and life will never be as good as it was. You never feel as safe or carefree ever again. You’re filled with intense fear as you can’t take another loss and you live in that cold fear. It’s what keeps you from sleeping nightmare free.

This was a depressing post, but it is my truth. It is especially so when loss is sudden and unexpected and you have no real closure and you couldn’t say goodbye. Or I love you so much. It is why I suffer from PTSD.

On the other hand not everyone has experienced unconditional love in their lives. No one loves you as much as your parents and I’m sad that there are parents who are undeserving of their children. And even though they will never know a fraction of your pain, I feel that it’s still better to have had that love.

I’m so utterly grateful I was blessed with that pure love. Thank you my Papa, for loving me that much.

Strangely, I know that you would appreciate this post. You were never shy about emotions being revealed or being made public and that was just another amazing thing about you. You were so ahead of your time.

My only wish is that time is not linear and I get another chance to make it up to you.

About bookjunkie

Blogging about life in Singapore & recently cancer too.
This entry was posted in Anxiety, Midlife Musings and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Grief

  1. Janet Hill says:

    I read this with tears in my eyes as I understand what this is like. You write from your heart and unfortunately I know the loss you speak of as I too lost my Dad. I don’t know how people go on when such an integral part suddenly is missing. Who are daughters without their Daddies around? Keep writing, you are amazing at this xx

    • bookjunkie says:

      Thank you so much. It’s been 19 years but I’m still lost without him. With time I coped better. But the missing and yearning never stops. It’s so hard which is why I feel for you so much. It’s even worse when the pain is raw. Big hugs ❤️‍

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