People die. And they leave traces of memories
with people. But how do you cope with the death of a person? How do you bring
yourself to accept that someone you have known for a long time has ceased to
exist? How do you think?
You
start by thanking them in your thoughts, for all the times they came to you to
help you, for all the times they made you smile and for all the times they made
you cry because they were annoying you so much. You think about all the times
they have loved you, held you in their arms and have allowed you to fall asleep
right there. You thank them for stroking your hair every night so that you fall
sleep peacefully. For all the times they have kissed your forehead and healed
you. You thank them for them.
But,
you should cry when you feel like you need to. You may go to the bathroom with
packets of tissues and cry your heart out over a song. You may pretend to fall
asleep and turn your face away from the people around you because you aren’t
comfortable with crying in front of people.
You may sit down at the corner of your bed and look out at a distant
memory and have your tears roll down your cheek. You may choose not to answer
anybody; to explain why you are crying. You may cry over all the good times
you’ve had with that person and all the good times that you won’t.
You
must write, if you do. Take that pen and write. Let your fingers ooze that
fierce energy you hold. Write away your thoughts. Write away your anger at that
person leaving you. Write away your sadness. Mourn their death with your words.
Even if the first word that comes to your mind is Apple. And it’s okay if you
don’t write further because that word will now hold a meaning for you to always
remember. That word will now always hold that fierce energy. You will never
lose that. Even if you burn that book down or the paper, that word will always
remain and strike a chord in your heart and soul whenever or wherever you see
it. And you’ll remember.
You
may sit down and not move for a while. You may swallow your emotions down to
your intestines. You may sit quiet for an eternity. You may hold them in your
thoughts without crying or writing. You may, in the process, sleep. You may let
slumber take you in its arms and cradle you to unconsciousness. You may lie
under the warmth of your blanket, shielding you from the world. You may embrace
peace while you mourn.
Or,
you may sew up them all. You may cry, knowing that there isn't any physicality
to that person anymore. But you must realize that you hold every memory of
them. It’s okay if you conjure a sad one to a happier one. A memory is
powerful, regardless the kind. And then you may write. Don’t worry about the
tear drops on the words. They will either leave a mark or disappear completely.
But let them be. They are yours and yours forever. You may proceed to sleep in
the arms of your blanket. You may bask in their warmth while you slowly fall
sleep. Don’t worry about not falling asleep. Crying is like anaesthesia; like
morphine. It heals. It soothes. It is peace.
But
know that they have always loved you. Know that you meant the world to that
person. Know that they have forgiven you for anything and everything. Know that
they have accepted you. Know that you were like that random word to them; know
that you held their fierce energy. Know that you held meaning to their
world. Know that you have crossed their
mind right before their demise. You have been an incredible part of their life.
You have been loved.
