I wear Fezes now. Fezes are cool. "People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint - it's more like a big ball of wibbly wobbly... time-y wimey... stuff." - The Doctor
Sophia. 20 something, German and Dutch heritage, but grew up in Australia for more than 18 years of my 20 something years of life. I'm an arts/economics student, majoring in awesome majors.
Music. Nonviolence. Love. Compassion. Photography. Volunteering. Social Justice.
Her life calmed down after so many emotional upheavels, for that she was grateful. Sitting on her favourite sofa at home, she stared out through the window into the millions of raindrops that were dropping down from the sky. She thought back to those times, where she thought death was following her, picking up people she knew, just silently waiting until it was time to pick her up.
She couldn’t remember anything particularly clearly, who wouldn’t after having a major pillar pulled out of her life. She struggled to find a temporary pillar, found that in her sister, and then struggled to piece together many aspects of her life. As the days went passed, she then struggled to find what the meaning of grief was. She thought she knew what grief was, when news came that her godmother died. All those months of careful stitching up threatened to come undone. At one point, it almost did.
She restarted the discovery of the notion of grief, and thought that she arrived at a point where she knew what it was. Yet Death thought otherwise. On the first day of spring, news spread fast along social networks that an old school friend had passed away in a horrific manner.
Yet her journey through grief, led to more and more discoveries, but it was a journey that is still unfinished. 4 months after, it still hurt to think about the loss of her grandpa. She recently found photos of him, hidden, and the waves of tears, sorrow and loss threatened to overpower her. It was like Death had stabbed her once again in the heart, threatening to undo her careful stitching.
She didn’t know if she would ever get over the loss of him, or even her godmother.
“Grief, a type of sadness that most often occurs when you have lost someone you love, is a sneaky thing, because it can disappear for a long time, and then pop back up when you least expect it”
A friend of mine died recently, and looking back at the few memories that I hold, I’ve come to the conclusion that she did make a difference in my life but I never realised until tonight, when all of my classmates gathered at our old school’s chapel to celebrate her life.
I never realised that she made a difference in the way she smiled, the way she made it important to get to know each and every person. How she wasn’t judgemental. How she made sure in that short period of time all of her attention was on you and not half on you.
So if you ever doubt yourself about whether or not you make difference, think again, because you do. You make a difference just by smiling at a stranger, because it turns the day around, from a bad day to a good day. Just by a single thing.
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 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.