A Missing Piece
“They are the only ones that can fully grasp it. You need to live it to know it, even though you kind of know the feeling, you never fully grasp it until you lose someone you love”. That is a line from a story written by the amazing Karianne Giard, the author of the first story i fell in love with. A story I've actually read for the fourth time around a month ago, something i never do. A quote that, in my opinion, could not be more true.
In my experience, when you lose someone, it’s like an entire character in the story that is your life was ripped out of every chapter that follows, drastically changing the story. And suddenly, your life isn't your life anymore, it's different, there's something missing. It's only then that you're hit with the realisation that it will be missing on your graduation day, your wedding day, the day you get your first job, the day you publish your first book, the day you'll make something out of yourself and would’ve made them proud.
And just like that, nothing matters anymore. Nothing is worth doing or accomplishing anymore, because they're not there. Because, they won't be there.
The story, by Karianne Giard goes on to say that you won't always be sad, that one day you'll wake up and everything will feel normal, even though it's not, but you'll realise you can go through your day without thinking about it.
But the thing is, this loss wages a war within you, one in which one part of you is struggling to keep the ones you've lost somehow in your life, struggling to not forget a single thing related to them and never let yourself forget that they are a part of your life, while the other is tired because of your aching heart, tired of that bolt of lightning you feel every time they're mentioned, tired of the ache and just wants to forget, to turn back time and change what cannot be changed, to relive your story without that character, and spare yourself the pain of loss.
Losing someone does that to you. It does things, unexplainable things, that no one will understand unless they’ve lost someone. Things like desperately wanting to remember, but also wanting to forget, things like texting their old phone number in the middle of the night and waiting for a reply, things like trying your best not to think about them for the day and feeling guilty when you succeed. Things that make no sense, clouding over the things that do.
I believe Robert Frost once said, he could sum up everything he learned about life in three words: it goes on.
He was right. As far as life goes, it does go on, sometimes faster than we’d like, it goes on and drags us along with it. Careless, of the pieces that were left behind. Careless, of our feelings as it watches us run back from every stop, trying to find the missing pieces before it moves on again, towing us behind, without our consent.
Yes, life in general does go on, and so do you. But, you don't just move on and get over things, they become a part of who you are. A part of your life, and your life does adapt to the change, but it's kinda like a wound closing in on the bullet. Your body heals around it, but it's still there. A sting in your heart with every memory, every lingering thought of “they'll never be here for that”. We seemingly forget about it, and go about our lives, but it's there. The feeling is still there. It's always there.
It’s there when you remember something they did or said, when you hear their name, when your mind wanders to the memory of them. It's existence comes in the form of your heart aching, eyes flooding with tears, body shaking, mind racing and breath clogging. It's like an overflooding wave of emotion that overwhelms the soul, weighing down on your chest, so fast you don't even see it coming.
That's how the memory of someone so beautiful and divine, someone who at one point lifted the weights off your chest and filled your heart with love and strength, becomes one you dread, yet crave.
Grief is such a powerful, complicated, intense and overbearing emotion that makes no sense. So much so, that you may find yourself not wanting to get out of it, but praying you do.