i still jolt at the sound of blaring ambulance sirens, wince as they leave a trail of light. i stare as it accelerates away into the night, five seconds enough to snap a long exposure light painting.
where i work, the ward i pass to enter the washroom sometimes fills with muffled sobs, hushed goodbyes. on rare occasions, there is bawling, but my ears are attuned to stifle the vociferous pleas to bring their loved ones back. i am conditioned to lower my eyes and scurry back to work, i don’t think i am capable of sharing a gaze with someone grieving.
i have conflicting emotions about grief, about the way i grief. some days when i let myself sit in my memories, they are almost always frustratingly a blur. yet, on other days, snippets of memories surface involuntarily and i will myself to take a pause, for them to diffuse into the deepest corners of my heart.
my first loss was filled with insurmountable sadness- i cried in school, i cried at home, but i always cried in secret. because it couldn’t be spoken about, because we had to be sheltered from the noise outside. i thought all losses had to be dealt with the same way, it would be brazen to show any hint of emotions, because there is always someone grieving harder than you. when the second loss came around, it took the same effort to move mountains, as it was to squeeze a drop of tear out. i heard people comment that it was fair i wasn’t too upset, since i wasn’t too affectionate with () anyway; but their words translated into disdain- that i was too emotionless, too unfeeling. in truth i hurt a lot. it hurts that the second reminded me of lingering pain from the first, and i blamed myself for not being able to dissociate the two.
by the time it was the third, i found myself having bouts of panic. i felt a desire to right myself this time- i had to present the right way, feel the right emotions, and i also had to separate my feelings from the past. in the penumbra of my ebullience, there were always specks of despondence, but they always had to be collected and controlled. i fear my maladroit attempts at keeping my anguish in would be made an issue again.
i’m not sure if i have let myself grief sufficiently this time, because the entire affair felt like a very self serving exercise. i wish i had kinder words to say to myself, and i wish i had more time to immerse myself in memories of:
when i used to sit in her lap after school so she could give the best massages
when she would make my favourite mhk and i would gobble down my meal so there was a chance for refill
when i would unhesitatingly groan in disgust when she asked for my coriander. strange, because i love coriander now
but also when she would comment about how i look and i started to avoid her. when i would roll my eyes at the incessant consults. when she spouted outdated remarks about certain trends.
still, she loved me and today, i see this with great great clarity.
ellievsbear
romaincrisis
titsay
gummygunk
