It's been a few days since I got the news but I still cry. It doesn't matter what I'm doing. Dishes, laundry, showering. The tears fall when they choose. Sometimes they're silent and other times I sob so hard I can't stop.
I didn't cry at first, when I got the news. I think I didn't really understand. Or maybe I was in shock. At first, I felt an odd sense of detachment, like an out of body experience, or what I imagine one would feel like.
The words were there, right in front of me but it might as well have been a foreign language for all the sense it made at the time. I guess my mind just couldn't cope. Wouldn't accept the reality.
Even when you know it's coming you can never prepare for it. It feels like I'm drowning and the only thing that goes through my mind is why.
Why, if there's a God, would he do this? Why take someone so good, so caring and so kind? Why take one of the best people I've ever met?
It's selfish to think that way I know, but I can't help it. I try to be grateful that he's not suffering anymore. I just don't understand why he ever had to suffer to begin with. Surely there are people out there who actually deserve to, but not him. Never him.
All I can think about is the hole left inside of me. I feel hollow and miserable.
Logic has no place in grief. I think about the things we did. Some of my favorite memories and I smile a little even with the tears still pouring from my eyes; but the smile quickly shatters as reality hits again. As I remember there will be no new memories and I cry harder.
Life isn't fair and death feels cruel when you're left behind to mourn. You know you aren't the only one hurting but you're alone in your pain anyway.
I think a piece of me died too. Maybe that's why it hurts so much to lose people you care about. Maybe you lose a bit of yourself as well, a part that belonged only to them.
Then there's the guilt. Others knew him longer. Others knew him better. Do I even have the right to be as upset as I am? Do I have the right to mourn this much? To feel this much pain when others cared as well, there were people who were closer to him. Is it disrespectful to them for me to show this much pain around them?
In the end it doesn't matter because the tears fall without permission. Holding them back isn't an option and I can't even speak to talk about my memories because I cannot find my voice.
Sorrow has stolen it and left me mute with my misery. Some people stare and others look away, uncomfortable with my public display. In the end, I may as well be alone because none of their thoughts can touch me in this sea of torment.