Dear Josh,
I saw this beautiful poem about grief today that I thought was very well-written. Not well-written in the way that fancy words were used, but in the way that grief was accurately captured.
“I wanted to shout from the rooftops
I have lost them! My life is over!
but then tomorrow came for me,
and you were still gone, and life was
still moving and I hated it.
grief is survivable when it feels like
it should be terminal. how can I
live without you?
my heart is split open, bleeding
in my chest and I cannot breathe,
and yet tomorrow still comes for me.
and life is still moving, and I am
still alive, and it is terrible.”
You’d have hated that it doesn’t rhyme. It is very simply written and yet captures exactly what grief is like. Sometimes we hate that the world moves on, other times we hate that we have to move with it. Almost all the time, it’s both those things we hate.
There have been an increase in depressing stories on the news lately. Either that, or I’ve just been noticing them a little more than before. Today my mum was talking about how “poor thing” it is that a 21-year-old boy lost his life to a Muay Thai competition. She read the story out loud in the car. It was a competition for charity, and he passed on minutes after finishing the match. He told his parents he wasn’t feeling well, and collapsed a few minutes after.
There were the usual signs of grief in his parents’ statements. His mother said that if he had received help earlier, he might have still been alive. His father said that he should have been sitting with his son instead of watching the rest of the matches. In the end, a crowd formed around him and his parents were blocked from being with him in his last moments. It’s a terribly sad story and I don’t wish the pain of losing a loved one on anyone in the world. As I listened to my mum share this story, my thoughts were, “Ah yes, I felt that too – the “if onlys” and “what ifs”.” But the rational, and maybe evil part of me, also thought, “No, it wouldn’t have made a difference if he had received help a few minutes earlier. And it wouldn’t have made a difference if his father was right beside him. It all happened in minutes, no one could have predicted it or saved him.”
I didn’t say that out loud, of course. That would have been cruel and far too logical for a situation like that, even if it might have been the facts. I only have these thoughts and this understanding of the outcome remaining the same because I know grief. All of this is grief-talk. I’ve been through it. Nothing would have changed the outcome. I know that now.
Today, an idea of what I should say if people I newly meet in the future ask if I have a boyfriend. I still might change my answer depending on the person and situation, but “I do, but he’s with God now,” came to mind. I then wondered if it sounded too religious, considering I’m a freethinker, but we can always tweak it as we go along. Thinking of you with God comforted me.
Hope you’re having a blast. Can’t wait to see you again. I love you more, always, and forever.
Love always,
Sha
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