When you have people die around you, in such a short span between them, you start questioning aspects.
You start thinking morbid things, like “How would people react if I were to die?” or “How do I let people know that I am not there?”. You start questioning and start thinking about that process, the process people don’t want to think about.
It isn’t easy…
It crawls up on you. It always has, and always will do.
The minute you feel vulnerable, and alone, is when it jumps on you and gives you a right hook under the chin. And then you feel alone. And upset.
And I don’t believe in the existence of angels
But looking at you I wonder if that’s true
But if I did I would summon them together
And ask them to watch over you
To each burn a candle for you
To make bright and clear your path
And to walk, like Christ, in grace and love
And guide you into my arms
These past few months, I feel like Death has been following me around. First my grandfather died suddenly, and then within 2 months my godmother lost her battle with cancer. And now, a classmate of mine has died due to a car crash.
So this is for all those who I have known, those who have I loved, who have passed away. RIP.
I take a photo of her with me now, as if I could take her with me everywhere. Just so that I don’t have to cut away the connection so I can have a tangible connection when I need to.
I take a photo of her with me now, so that in times where the sorrow overwhelms, it’s her smile that gets me through the day now. So that I can have a pillar of strength in form of a photo printed out on paper.
It’s been 2 weeks now, and it is still so gosh-darn painful. It’s like a blackhole in my heart threatening to suck in everything around it. I miss her so gosh-darn much.
Deleting a contact should be fairly easy - it only really takes two clicks. Moving your thumbs twice. But deleting the number of someone you loved that passed away? One of the hardest, toughest things to do.
It’s almost like the contact in your phone becomes a symbolic representation of the person. It’s like you’re deleting the person from your internal address book. A technological cutting of a connection that bound you to them. When you do press the “Okay” button, part of you feels guilty for doing so, the split second after pressing it, you wish that you didn’t press okay. That you could still have that little connection to the person.
Want to know the one thing I’m ashamed of? Not realising how much I took her for granted until she passed away. Not thanking her for teaching me so many things, not saying I love her, because I never realized how much I loved her, in a familiar way until she passed away. That is what I’m ashamed about myself.
Drawing in times where I have felt sad, or lonely, or depressed was always my saviour. It was my way of ‘finalizing’ or coming to terms with things. I could always express my feelings with art, more so than with spoken words. When my grandfather passed away, drawing my favourite photo with him was therapeutic. It made me realise that whilst he was no more in physical form he was always with me - living inside of me in forms of memories, in forms of my habits and my blood.
When my god-mother died, I think that hit me the hardest. She died of leukemia, a fight that took several months. She had a period where she beat cancer into remission and I saw her in that period. And I’m glad that I did. Her smile that day I carved into my heart so that when I need it, it will always be there. I decided to draw her, but it is the hardest thing for me to do. My hand is literally shaking as I’m drawing her. It’s like … it’s like my body doesn’t to accept that she has gone, that she has passed away.
I am scared that I won’t do her justice, that in the end my drawing would … not portray her as I want her to be portrayed.
I miss you Kirsten. I miss your smile, and the happiness that radiated from you whenever you saw someone you loved.
I miss you so much. You’ve been gone a week, and I miss you a lot already.
One of the worst parts of the funeral (apart from the attention as well as having to attend a funeral) is picking out an outfit that is respectable enough.
Especially when its requested that they didn’t want the attendees to not wear black.
I really don’t want to go through this process again. Losing two people close to my heart within 2 months is … well, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
