Thursday, August 21, 2014

Two Months to the Date

At the beginning of my summer break, I lost someone who was an important piece of the puzzle that is my life. Today will mark two months and although a lot of the initial pain has subsided, new feelings seem to take its place. While I was laying in my room trying to sort out my feelings like they were crayons in a box, I decided, why not make a blog post out of this situation?

So here I am.

Hooray for me finding old pictures from when I tried my hand at photography. I don't want to say I gave up on doing this, just simply ran out of time. I'll get back at it soon enough.
In the process of living through these past few weeks, I've noticed the hardest part of losing someone is the darkness you feel at night. Not the darkness that blankets the world outside, but the darkness that blankets your feelings and thoughts and emotions. Thoughts of loneliness and the aching pain of hurt squirm in your head like Kindergartners trying to sit still, irritating and uneasy. Every memory floats by and then turns into a sting in your stomach which then turns into tears and before you know it you're balling your eyes out from a simple thought about milkshakes.

And yet sometimes, I'm happy these things come to me at 2 am and not at 2pm when I'm trying to wrestle with life. I'm happy that I generally only get the need to ball my eyes out and spill my feelings when it's the middle of the night and I can cover my face with the four walls of my room. 

A lot of people, especially in the initial days after her death, would throw generic phrases at me like an unhelpful emotional band aid. "She's in a better place," they'd say. I'd smile and nod and choke back my tears, but in actuality I wanted to run away screaming bullshit. I knew they had sincere intentions behind saying these things to me, but really I wanted to give them a twenty minute rant about how many times I'd heard that and how with each time, it became less and less meaningful.

This heaven that I've unconsciously heard of since I was an infant is the biggest mystery I've yet to understand. The biggest concept I've yet to grip is how can someone you love, see you hurting, see you crying and not feel pain? How can they happily sit up on a chair of clouds eating ice cream and chatting with God and not want to cry with you?

Even with all this time passing, I still have yet to come to an understanding.

And I know that all of a sudden this blog has become a depressing place with just this one blog post and I might as well paint the background black and start referencing death in every other sentence, but I'll try to refrain.

The next post on here will certainly not be this depressing, but in doing this I hope to look back in another year or two or ten and see where I was and realize where I have come.

Have a fabulous day.


  1. I'm sorry about how the phrase "She's in a better place" became less meaningful for you. Regarding your thoughts about heaven, could I tell you what I've been taught? First of all, when a person is buried, they're not being judged or put in heaven or hell. They are, in a sense, alive- in their grave. They can hear you if you speak to them at their grave but they cannot respond back in any sort of way. (I don't know about cremated people though. My religion is firmly against cremation). Anyway, the dead will be in their graves until the world comes to an end, which seems like a long time, but for the person in the grave, it'll be there in moments (relativity of time, probably). I don't know if it makes you feel better, but I am most certainly sure that your friend is crying much more in her grave than you are in your room.
    (I just reread this a couple of times and now I have a feeling I may be making things twice as worse than by saying something happier D: )

    1. No worries, I found your comment very intriguing. :) I find looking and learning about other religions extremely fascinating and the way your religion looks at death and afterlife is quite intriguing in and of itself. Your comment means a lot. Thank you. :)

  2. You can write so movingly.. Again, I'm very sorry for the loss of your friend. No advice is sometimes more helpful than advice, so I'll just say I'm sure your friend appreciated (or appreciates, if there is an after life) having someone who cares so much for her.

    If you're in the mood for posting it, I nominated you for The Sunshine Award :)

    1. After all that I've heard, I can whole heartedly agree with you on "no advice is sometimes more helpful than advice" (I've actually never heard that phrase so thanks for sharing). ALso thanks for the nomination I love doing blog awards no matter how I'm feeling, so I can't really resist. :)

      Thanks for your comment, it truly does mean a lot. :)