Eternal Desolation

Grieving

A lone tear rolled down my porcelain cheek. I became acutely aware of a burning sensation building in the back of my throat as I squeezed my eyes closed and drew in a trembly breath. I tried to hear your voice, to recall what it sounded like, but all I heard was the repetitive tick-tock of a clock.

My eyes flicker to your shirt bundled up in my fingers, damp from my tears. Your scent only faintly lingering. Clutched by nausea, a distorted wave of hoping that it was all a lie, perhaps some sick joke.

I sat gazing out the window at the pit of endless darkness staring back at me. A gutted rush of stale air makes its way from my aching lungs. The scream for me to allow myself to breathe clearly. To take steadier, continuous breaths. I was bound by my sorrows if only I could find an answer to your egress. Maybe then I could breathe again. 

I sat motionlessly, my body tired as my mind. My lip trembles as another sob works its way from my mouth, tears cascading onto your shirt once more. Some part of me remains struggling. Struggling to comprehend why you went out so late, where were you headed?

Flooded by memories, haunted by apparitions. I can picture every moment, without having been there myself. I feel it invading my thoughts; even in the calmest moments. It's as if I saw the road and heard the deafening crashing myself. A lone figure, witnessing every moment from the sideline. 

I watch as the corner approaches too fast, you travelling at a higher speed than what would dare be safe. The alarm in your eyes as you realise it becoming too late to correct it, but your attempt to anyway. I can picture you rolling at high speed. Tumbling over and over... The glass shattering everywhere, and the minimal metal remaining of your vehicle. I can see and hear it all so clearly. The destruction and the mess it made of you as a result. Every injury and thought that must've assaulted your brain in what I'm sure felt like a lifetime at the moment that altered the entirety of my being and ended yours.

Having walked through your personal nightmare which has now taken residence in my own. No psychologist or counselling can agree on a diagnosis. It's not a disease nor a mental illness. It's nothing to do with anything but the cause of all the love I have for you and now have nowhere to direct it. It's a roaring in my ears and a loss of track in what others are saying. It's a physical manifestation of my unbearable grief.

You didn't deserve it. Most of the time I've learnt how to bury my emotions. I've learnt to put up a façade, to be strong, for you. When I'm alone the front falls away and I can feel all the emotions I work so tirelessly to bury. Anger. Betrayal. Loneliness. Despair and on occasion: guilt. I feel so angry that the world chose to take you from me, far too young. You left behind a family, you left behind your kids. We still need you. We shouldn't have to face adulthood without you. Milestones aren't supposed to be clouded by an intermittent sadness.

I miss you. I hate that I miss you. I hate that I must sit alone, curled in a foetal position while sobs wrack my body. That I must force myself to get out of bed and eat. Because I shouldn't have to. I shouldn't have to remind myself you're gone when I check my phone for a message that won't come. I shouldn't have to sit and look at photos or watch videos to recall your voice and your face. I shouldn't have to fall silent and hold back tears when somebody new questions where you are or when my birthday comes, I should not feel like the best way to spend it is holed in my room. Sitting and staring at the roof, muttering "I wish you were here" as if somehow, I may hear your response. As if somehow, you'll magically walk through that door and give me one of your famous bear hugs.