I sit at the wonky table with the view of the bowling green. The sun catching the water on the canopy and catching the rainwater on the grass. It’s not the same without the people I’ve lost but keeping going is the only way forward.
There’ll be healing, it’ll come. Maybe this is what it is like. The beauty and the pain of sitting here wanting to talk to my Gran right now. That duality is actually quite horrifyingly torturous… Maybe there will be something good that comes of this. I hope so. I don’t want to lose hope again.
What I really want to do right now is burst into tears. I’m one conversation away from it. Maybe even one vocalised sentence. I don’t want to speak about it today, not verbally. My heart just feels shattered. I tried doing some tidying up, I tried keeping positive, I made myself some good food, I took myself for a walk but I am still left muddy and foggy in my brain. I’d like this to stop hurting.
The carnations on the table hurt enough since they remind me of someone else. I always thought that was the greatest pain I’d ever feel but now I’m left wondering what’s going to hurt more?
I’m crying now. Stifling and sniffing in my tears.
I don’t know if I like this feeling of change. This one is more unsettling than the previous ones and yet I know changes need to happen. I just don’t like them.
‘When am I going to feel at home?’ a former self screams inside of my head. She’s hurt, she just wants to feel at home. She feels familiar, the girl who would play the same CD over and over aged 11 because the lyrics resonated. The words cut deep. And now one of those songs I can’t even play anymore because now it would have context, now that I’ve lost family members.
Maybe that song is something I should be facing.
Maybe next time I’ll write something more positive.
Love,
Anna
kulayrosas 