Confessions of the Heart

Confession #2: A Note on Trauma

Dear All,
I am not writing this to earn your pity, your sorrow or your judgement. I am writing this to show you what trauma truly is.

This year, in March, I had my final exams in school.

And this year, in February, my Gravity passed away.

Who was my Gravity? My grandmother, technically. However, in reality, she was far more close to me than my mother or anyone else. 

I had never lost a loved one before.

To have experienced the loss of her was almost like losing the air in my lungs. How does one cope with the loss of that one person, who was their mother, their soul sister and their inspiration, all together? How does one hope to go on-to study the subjects they studied, to read the books they read, to write with a pen they used?

How does one expect to write without the agony of their rememberence? How does one expect to sing without the whisper of their melody? How?

We had such big plans - to go places, see people, explore opportunities.

How was I to know that the day she left the house for the hospital, I would have my last conversation with her?

To deal with the loss of the single most important person to me in the whole world, in the presence of a thousand guests and condolences was absolutely heart wrenching. To top it off, I couldn't even read a single line in my Shakespeare book because her scribblings and notes were all over it.

You'd think that after a warrior has fought a war, he'd get some alone time, away from the battlefield, and if he's old enough, he may never get deported again.

But no, Cancer is probably far too lost in vengence.

After battling Cancer for so long, winning against death and overcoming it, she still lost to it in the end.

The one who wanted to live couldn't and thousands of perfectly healthy idiots commit suicide daily. The one patient who wanted and deserved to live couldn't and thousands of undeserving little punks get to enjoy their lives.

However, this is not about me trying to shame God. Apparently everything will be alright. I'm waiting for the day when that will happen.

So I have a bipolar aunt. Obviously, she came to my place at this time. My small two bedroom apartment was housing 5 people now. There was no more space for me in it.

I was to live in my grandmother's house with my grandfather and their son, my uncle, and my grandmother's aunt. The atmosphere was constantly tense and a constricted throat graced me with its presence every hour or so.

I was almost brought to tears thrice while writing my board papers, even.

I didn't have much emotional support except the laughter my best friend could offer over the phone and the little talks I'd have with my uncle every night or so.

My mum had pneumonia and was in the hospital for the most part. My dad spent some time with me, trying to get me to study, but he couldn't do much.

The month has proven to be the longest in my whole life. But it is soon to be over. And then, I won't have books to distract me from her memories. I won't have exams to go to. It'll just be me and the large hole in my heart.

This, I believe, was my trauma.