Grief is personal. Private. They say it is difficult at first but it gets better as days pass. They say you learn to live with it. They say you get used to it. They don’t tell you how and when. They don’t tell you what is to be done when your go-to-person vanishes one fine day, where to go when that happens, or how to cope up with it. They just hand you hope that everything will be fine one day.
Well, that’s not what actually happens. I think there’s this small, tiny, void like a flicker that feels up your insides gradually expanding inside you, tinch by tinch, overpowering you, conquering you until it finally consumes you. Nothing feels worth anymore. You act like everything is fine but your whole existence is questionable. You eat, you drink, you smile, you laugh, you work, your routine goes on but that doesn’t mean you don’t feel that pang, that pricking void crawling under your skin, branching, scarring you, leaving you with permanent irreparable damage.
There are many who tell you they are there for you but you have no idea when they will end up judging you, judging your grief by your actions, rationalising your emotions. They fail to see the face behind your emotions or reactions. They fail to understand the intensity of the grief.
And that’s okay. You can’t expect them to. Because they will not. Because they are not your go-to-person. And the reality is, they are not planning to be one.
Your go-to-person is not there and that’s the only verity. And the worst is, they left before you could brace yourself against the loss. They left before you could comfort your mind or heart, train it to live without them. They didn’t give you time to mentally accept the fact that they aren’t going to be there and you end up hating them forever for this.
Your soul is attached to them. That’s what makes the acceptance infeasible. How can you live when you can’t communicate to a part of your soul? How can you survive knowing the fact that part will never talk to you? How can you be truly happy knowing that they won’t be there for you, ever?
You miss them every walk of your life. While eating, while laughing, while chatting, while smiling, while crying, while sleeping, while in dreams, even when you are in your busiest phase of the day. They are omnipresent, running in the back of your mind. It is like one moment you are laughing and the next you know tears are gushing down your eyes, one moment you feel like you can conquer the world, the next moment you are curled up in your bed trying to stop the tears from flowing.
To my go-to-person.
Dad, this one’s for you.
Everything is the same. In reality, nothing feels the same!
You taught me to be strong but didn’t teach me how to be strong without you.
One Reply to “An Open Letter to all those who are still Grieving for their Loss”
Every sentence is as hard as a rock, as real as a death and as subtle as celestial love. This little piece projects the reality in its truest form that everyone has to face and faces. In spite of being straight, the writeup has subtlety in explaining the bitterest truths in a gentle way. Hats off to Swati! Happy to see your pen start running agan!