Until my last breath

10

Grief is an all-encompassing storm that sweeps through your life, leaving devastation in its wake. It is an invisible weight that presses down on your chest, making every breath a painful reminder of what you have lost. The days blur together in a fog of sorrow, where time seems both endless and meaningless. Each moment if filled with a yearning for what was, a desperate longing to turn back time and hold onto what is now gone. The simplest tasks become monumental challenges, as your mind is constantly pulled back to memories of the past. The around you continues to move forward, but you feel trapped in a never ending loop of heartache.

June 2022

Barcelona, Spain.

16 days, 20 hours, and 34 minutes. That's how long I've been trapped in this suffocating cocoon of grief, lifeless in my rotten bed. I can barely remember the last time I had an actual meal or even a proper sip of water. It feels like a lifetime since I lost my mother—the woman who gave me life, the woman who kept me standing on both feet, the woman who never failed to show me how much love I deserve. She was the one who completed my existence and filled the gaping holes that my father and uncle left in my heart. Now, she is gone, and I am utterly alone, a shell of the person I used to be.

I let out a heavy sigh, my body a dead weight as I reach for my phone on the nightstand.

8:37 PM.

I unlock the screen, scrolling past the avalanche of notifications that have bombarded my phone over the past weeks. Each ding is a reminder of the world moving on, indifferent to my loss. I finally locate my mom's contact, my heart aching as I observe our last messages together, each one a stab to my already broken spirit.

How can I go on without you, Ma?

My hands shake as I reach for the last voice note she sent me. I haven't listened to it yet, dreading the familiar pang of sorrow that is sure to follow. But I need to hear her voice just one more time.

With a deep breath, I press play, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Hey Riri, just checking in. I know you're in Mykonos with the boys. Don't forget to have fun and send me lots of pictures. I'll be waiting. Bye, my love."

The phone slips from my fingers, falling onto the bed like a lifeless object, my heart shattering into a million pieces. This can't be my mom.

Her voice is barely above a whisper, weary and fatigued, a stark contrast to the vibrant woman I remember. It's almost unrecognizable. If I had heard this voice note earlier, I could have flown back, held her close, and given her one last hug.

How could I have been so arrogant?

Going to Greece while my mother was dying, when I should have been by her side every single moment.

How could I be so stupid?

My head drops back onto the pillow, and I clamp my hand over my mouth, stifling the loud, gut-wrenching sobs that escape as flashbacks of my last night in Mykonos flood my mind.

  ***

Greece
May 2022

As soon as we returned from the restaurant, all I wanted was to collapse into bed and escape into a deep slumber. I still needed to talk to Arthur, but I knew he hadn't meant to upset me. Despite the pressure I felt during dinner, I had genuinely enjoyed my time, clinging to the hope of our last day in Greece.

After bidding everyone goodnight, I changed into my pajamas and grabbed my phone from the nightstand to check for messages from my mom.

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