Grieving A Living Loss
When you look for me, you will find me. I will remember you, but I will not know you.
When you miss me, I will think of you. I will recall the few good times we nurtured and instantly cringe at the plethora of commotions we shared.
When you speak my name, I will turn. I will walk your direction and stop a few steps before I reach you. We seemed better together from a distance – a far distance.
When you think of me, I will light the candle of love. I will place it in your mind’s eye. You will reach to blow the candle out before I disappear into the night. It’s less painful than watching me walk away.
When you stretch for an embrace, I will hop, skip and dance far behind you; in fear of being captured again and held against my will.
When you write about me, I will sing the words back to you so sweet yet so grim. Tears will be seen as happiness and happiness as agony. That is was our story.
This is what you called love isn’t it? I did too. You were not alone in that ambiance either.
We lasted as long as a bathed pig did before finding itself back in the mud. We tried as much as a couple wanting to conceive did, with no sign for many moons. We lost it all, rebuilt and lost it all again. Like oil and water, we can never blend yet forced ourselves to stay together – hoping a day would be the day we merged.
Stuck together yet disconnected.
Grief washes over me.
I mourn my loss who still lives. I see my loss and I’m cautioned to smile or stand accused as a murder suspect to a crime the eyes can’t see, and one that was painfully mutual.
Tears dry up before they fall. Smiles and cries meet at the same opening. Which twin will come first? Only one is allowed first, then followed by the other. Whichever twin dares come first will be brutally judged, but judged independently, and then as a couple.
There is no right here. Either choices carry a lethal weight.
To smile first is a false evidence of what you are hiding – pain, anger, betrayal and confusion. To cry first is a declaration of guilt, fault, regret and dishonor. And yet both smile and cry cannot use the opening at the same time.
I am left with a choice.
Everyone is watching.
Everyone is waiting.
There is no right answer, both are a betrayal either to myself or the one I lost. The one who still lives in another world but died in mine.
If there is no right answer why can’t I utter neither? In the heat of my thoughts and the depth of my grief, I choose. I have chosen.
Everyone is still watching.
Everyone is still waiting.
And so am I.
We all grieve - not only the dead but the living .