A Cup of Tea

But Death.

You know, I never knew that one day, I would stop whatever I was doing, and think about what would happen after Grandpa and Grandma die. Whether they would see me graduate high school and go to college. It's like I'm waiting for the day it will happen.

And it usually never happens exactly on the same day, so one day, either of them will pass away, be erased with the other 11 people that die every 6 seconds from the Earth, and while I'm in the middle of grief, the other dies as well. The pain, I imagine, will be unbearable.

The question is, what loss are you grieving over? The person, or what the person gave you? Because people also grieve over death because they had lost someone that gave something, whether it's love, comfort, food, or a combination with anything.

For me, it's a combination of all of those and with so much more that I cannot fully describe. I guess I'm just grieving over all of this way before I should.

Since the 5th grade, I would sometimes get this extremely empty, aching feeling in my chest when I had to say good bye to them. Back then, I didn't know what to identify that feeling as. I still don't know, but I can safely say that it's a mixture of fear, anticipation, and loneliness.  I felt like a part of me was missing, even though it was clear that there was no one missing. I used to call this feeling depression, but my Dad told me otherwise. It didn't make sense, now that I think about it, an 11-year old suffering from depression. I still wouldn't use depression as something to describe my thoughts. It felt like what I was feeling was, less important than depression, if that makes sense.

But I see that my Mom and Uncle Seveny look completely fine when they are with my grandparents, and they are their children. So why am I, the much younger granddaughter who can't possibly be worrying about death, so negatively impacted by them? Shouldn't I be completely oblivious of the presence of death, living happily in ignorant bliss?

I guess that's what happens when you think too much.

I mean, I try my best to be happy when I am with them, but if they do something, even as simple and irrelevant as pouring a cup of tea for me, I can't help but have a million thoughts run through my mind as my vision hazes and mouth encounters a subtle bitter taste, much like drinking a cup of tea.

It's like death feels inescapable. Inevitable.

Maybe because it is.

I don't exactly know what is it that constantly persists me to become surrounded by thoughts of death. It could be the grief after a death, or perhaps the fear of said grief, along with fear and regret. Maybe it's the realization that this loss will take a bite out of my memories and leave me empty, without the ability to fill the gap.

Whatever it is, it's been living in the back of my thoughts, restricting me to think about anything.

But death.