I Swear You Will Be Fine

Dear Josh,

This is a bad time for me to start writing this. I am feeling really exhausted and I’m not sure why. I think it’s one of those silent grief days where I feel too tired to talk and move and function. I was out with nice people the whole day – my family, your family – and I was feeling quite alright whilst out with them. But the second I came home I felt this odd discomfort in my chest. Not the sinking, grieving, heaviness that I often feel, but a silent discomfort… if that makes sense. I wasn’t extremely sad, I just felt tired.

There are a few ways I often feel. I’m not sure if everyone else feels these ways, or if I’m categorizing them well. I’ll just try to word the emotions in a way that makes them understandable. First, there’s loud grief. This is the one I see the most in movies and at funerals. It’s a lot of crying, a lot of small steps to the bathroom, and sobbing while looking through old pictures. I don’t go through loud grief as much anymore. This was mostly occurring in the first year. I find that loud grief takes up a lot of energy and I get tired after, which makes me feel worse.

The next variation of grief is functional grief. This is most of my days. To put it simply: I am bloody sad but I have to function, so I will. I suspect your family feels this too. This type of grief looks like going out, laughing at jokes, doing well at school or work. People who don’t know won’t know that we’re sad. Functional grief, as I have aptly named it, is basically functioning as we grieve. It’s been working so far, I’d say. Though I worry it looks a little like sweeping emotions under the rug.

Then there’s silent grief. This is what I’m feeling right now. Silent grief feels like I’m carrying a secret – a secret no one else knows I’m carrying. I don’t feel like talking, moving, or functioning. It’s a silent crusher, this one. It’s weird because I don’t feel like crying. I am so very sad, but I’m so sad I can’t do anything to feel better. There’s no way to feel better from silent grief other than to wait it out. That’s what I’m doing right now as I write this – hoping it’ll pass so I can continue my schoolwork.

There are other types of grief that I feel every now and then, but these are the main three. Lately I’ve been thinking about how long I can keep doing this. If you recall, last year when I was interning, I spoke about you as if you were alive. I might be off to intern at someplace else again, or meet new people at a part-time job, or just form new connections for future opportunities. If the question comes up – if I have a boyfriend – I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to say no, so I’ll say yes. But do I pretend you’re alive? Or do I just calmly say “but he has passed on”? Do I continue pretending that you’re alive and that I can keep living like this? Can I keep living like this?

Last year, I proudly thought I could keep doing this – live as if you’re alive and pretend you are to new people I meet. But it’s getting a bit tough. I don’t mind pretending to people who I won’t see again – like chatty cab drivers or cashiers – but what if I have to keep seeing the person over and over again? It feels like I’ll have to keep living a lie… you know? Maybe I’m only thinking about this because my mood is terrible. Maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow morning and think, “Of course I’ll keep living like this!” We’ll see. I’m going to borrow a phrase I used to recite to prioritize my problems: This is an issue for Future Shalini to work out. I’ll cross the hurdle when I reach it.

I can’t wait to see you again. I love you more, always, and forever.

Love always,
Sha