"I sit with my grief and mother it."

"I sit with my grief and mother it"

The first days, I was overwhelmed with love and gratitude for all the time we shared. It felt like the perfect time for him to pass. I had no remorse for how things went. All I could remember were our last conversations and all the precious moments shared. Three weeks later, I realize I was in shock. Now I'm reconsidering my routine; I'm reconsidering everything. His parting set in motion me going neither here nor there. I'm standing still in a fog that clouds my vision black; I can't see what I used to dream about, and I can't remember how my happiness felt. I'm on the verge of falling into the abyss, what medical professionals call depression, souls name it darkness.

I can only hope to wake up to a dream again. These days all that seems to help are tangible things. I bought a candle, a skirt, and a necklace. I indulged in my old unhealthy habit of smoking for the duration of a pack or two. Music, anything from old soul to cringey popsongs, soothed. Dancing cleared and distracted my heart as much as my mind. Writing did nothing for me, poetry turned into pain, and I promised myself to never write again. In the end, the passing of time comforted me most, to a point I saw shimmers of gratitude again.
(….)
Maybe this counts as his last fatherly advice to me: going through it all makes it worthwhile in the end. Endure the pain, trauma, and fear because at the end of it, the carves in your heart will hold and channel love and gratitude for all that has been. However few ‘good times’ there may have been. They will be grandeur at the end of the finish line. Because through it all, you will have loved and that never feels little to anyone.

Love always,