I hate that I have to grieve.

Amigdala.
3 min readJul 25, 2023
Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash

I hate that we have to keep laughing and being strong in front of each other, then crying when nobody is watching. I hate that we have to keep living and that life will always go on no matter how many losses we have to bear with. I hate that no matter how hard life seems without their presences, there is nothing we can change to make it easier.

We can’t turn back time. We can’t skip any stage of grief. We can’t cheat the fate. We can’t get rid of what is supposed to be felt in the first place. And I hate that I can’t do any of those to make things less hurtful to live in.

They say, it takes one year and a half to grieve over someone’s death, but time can’t even measure how long it will actually take when it comes to the loss of a beloved one. They say, it almost feels like part of us dies and perishes, and it is nowhere to be found. The longing towards a deceased one has become the most complicated feeling as we don’t even know what to do to get rid of it.

We can no longer see them. We can no longer hear their voice. We can no longer talk to them and have a three-hour-long conversation at midnight before going to bed. We can no longer watch them grow. We can no longer see their hair turning grey. We can no longer ask questions and get the answers. We can no longer smell the scent of their perfumes. We can no longer see them blowing up their birthday candles. We can no longer see them wearing their brand-new clothes. We can no longer see them.

All those things were trivial the moment they were still alive. We used to pay less attention to every detail of them until we realized that one day, we will never be able to see it again. It takes us to the realization that every first time can be the last time. Every conversation and unnecessary blabbering can be the last time we see them talking. Every breakfast and dinner can be the last time we sit on the same table. Every birthday can be the very last celebration. The last phone call can really be the last….

We don’t know how useful a pen was until it ran out of its ink.

We have no idea how long everything will last until we lose it. We don’t know how precious one is until they are forever gone.

I start to realize that the word ‘forever’ is actually that scary when it comes to a goodbye. The fact that we will never be able to celebrate our birthdays with them anymore, and that their absences will more or less affect the atmosphere. Every year will never be the same as how it was when they were still here, and how stupid we are that we have never seen it coming.

On this day, we used to have a small talk before going to work with two cups of coffee.”

On this day, we used to cook for dinner for our third anniversary celebration.

On this day, we used to wait for the bus and went home before the sun down.

On this day, we are supposed to celebrate your twentieth birthday.

How come every new day brings a new pain as we recall the good old days? How come the absence of someone be this suffocating that we barely are able to breathe and move on?

I am broken and it gets worse every time I am reminded of the fact that what is gone, will remain gone. I have always been a terrible learner, I guess that’s why I still am unable to deal with it — and that you are really gone , and that I can’t help but grieving for I-don’t-know how long.

I hate that I have to grieve, but at least, that is how I learn to slowly let you go.

I miss you, Mama. I love you, I forever will do.

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Amigdala.

Each of my writings speaks. Silence interprets it.