Diaries of the Grieving

Prelude - Nevaeh

Today is hard.

But everyday seems to be reoccurring in the same pattern.

I'll sit on the top of the field, with the sky miserable and grey, with my air pods in, yet still listening to nothing, and ponder on what the fuck my life is.

The funny thing about grief is that it always, always depends on the person. I know its a fucked thing to say, but with people like my grandparents, I was never really sad over their deaths; then again I was never really close with them anyways. What broke me in that circumstance was the reactions that the other's around me faced. The tear stroked faces of my parents. The cracked facades of my usually put together and care free aunts and uncles.

I think that haunted me more than the actual death itself.

I think the most awful thing is now, I don't even need to see their faces to understand their pain. I've lived through it myself now that it's not even unfathomable to understand how they feel. I don't need to imagine. This is reality, and sometimes I think I'd rather be dead and join them, than to suffer through the possibility of living through this nightmare.

The funny thing about nightmares is that they seem to stick out more than ordinary dreams, or even the good ones. You remember them more vividly. And they stay with you. No matter how far you push it towards the back of your mind.

I open my eyes and look up towards the sky. Everything always seems so dreary and miserable. Pointless really. This feeling of complete disregard for anything has consumed me more so than anything before. The world that seemed so colourful before, looks dimmer. Duller. I've forgotten over the past year what real colour is like. But maybe it's always been like this. Maybe we've just had special lenses to make us believe that there's a fantastical element to the world where pigs fly and magic is real.

I wish I was blinded with ignorance as bliss.

My phone starts ringing and I look to see it's my aunt. With one hand I grab it and hold it up to my face, contemplating on answering.

"You gonna get that?"

Stunned, I sit up and turn around. A boy stands tall behind me. Although boy doesn't really seem to describe him. From the looks of things he seems a lot older than that. He's dressed in shorts and a plain white tee. I'm assuming he's running indicated by the bottle he's holding in his hand and his sweat slacked face. He's grinning at me and the turning sensation in my belly is un telling of how to react.

Slowly his grin fades and he clears his throat, a hand covering his mouth.

"I guess not." he says.

I frown at my phone and sit their awkwardly, unsure of what to do.

Thinking he'd just walk away, instead he surprises me and walks over, sitting next to me.

I feel super uncomfortable. What if he's a psycho or murderer? But then quickly I decided that's stupid and he's probably tired from his run. Even if he did try to kill me, he'd probably be doing me a favour honestly.

He doesn't talk for a few beats until he says, "So what's your name?"

"My name?"

"Yeah..." he chuckles, "you do have one right?"

My cheeks burn.

This is so totally embarrassing.

"Right. Yeah I do."

"And that would be?..." he prompts.

"Oh! Nevaeh...it's Nevaeh."

"Well Nevaeh it's nice to meet you." The stranger holds out his hand and tentatively I shake it.