This grief… It’s a roller coaster… The most horrifying roller coaster you could possibly imagine.
I can feel relatively “okay” sometimes. It’s still there, I always carry it with me. The most treasured memories I have. Memories of her. But also the grief. The heavy burdon I carry along like a 100kg backpack every day since she left. But I feel relatively okay, comparing to worse times. Call it the “new okay”, the new normal. But then it takes over again, out of the blue, without any warning whatsoever. The grief. The pain. The sadness. The impotence. The anger. The pain. The sadness. The darkness. The walls around me.
People around me notice the change. “Are you okay?”
Am I okay? I truly hate this question… I hate it, because, how can I possibly answer you? How can I, when I cannot find any words that will accurately describe what I’m truly feeling. There are simply no words. It’s so terrible, that words just don’t exist anymore. An entire dictionary containing thousands and thousands of words, and not one word that will describe this pain and agony.
Sometimes I do try to describe it, but I quickly get frustrated. I get frustrated searching for words, I get frustrated by not finding anything that fits what I’m feeling. I get frustrated, searching… I look into the eyes of the person in front of me, searching for a sign that they understand what I mean because I cannot find the words to describe it. But I can’t find it in there… Because you cannot understand. Not unless you’ve been there. Which is the same reason why I don’t want you to understand. Because you wouldn’t wish this pain to anyone, not even your worst enemy. I am glad you do not understand. But at the same time, I f feel so misunderstood. So alone.
So while tears cloud my eyes, I quickly answer: “Nothing, I’m fine”… And there goes another lie.
If you don’t want me to lie, don’t ask me that question.