I remember seldom things in life. Maybe my horrible memory can be attributed to the thousands of Diet Coke I drank as a kid and their alleged nasty side effects to memory. Maybe it’s attributed to my tendency to focus on the minute details and not the whole picture. Or maybe it is just a personal choice, a personal decision to ignore what life has brought me and to somehow use the bits I can recall to construct some fairytale. I wish that this process would have happened when I felt like I was losing everything in my life, but, almost sadistically, I remember everything. Every emotion, movement, smell, and facial expression. I know that this day will forever haunt my memory, because it has since it happened. My life changed in a hundredth of
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In those days, we had to prepare for the funeral. Every minute detail felt like a slap to face. And all the while is that people around us were happy. They did not acknowledge the death of a tremendous woman. Simply, we were treated like average Joes, just getting by.
The funeral was the most difficult thing I have ever experienced. I felt so empty, as if all my love was taken from me and was replaced with guilt and extreme sadness. The tears flowed like they were normal, too plentiful to pretend that they were. Collectively, we were all empty, all guilty of something unforeseen before she passed away. When the casket closed and was placed into the ground, her being vanished from us and left us with only memories.
Now that it has been almost three months since my grandmother has passed away, I cannot help but feel a new form of guilt build. This guilt, while the same premise as others, if based upon moving on. As the sun rises and sets day in and day out, I feel myself forgetting the inflections in her voice, the folds and lines in her face. I am forgetting the details of the last hug she gave me; how I winced in pain because she hugged me so tightly that her earring was pressed against my skin, as if to predict the pain I would be in only one month later. The last thing she gifted to me, a silver, heart-shaped necklace with lavender pearl in the center signifying love, the only solid object I have left of her. Months ago, I said goodbye with the promise of saying hello once more. Now, I say hello to the memory of her, in hopes I won’t forget everything she gave to
In those days, we had to prepare for the funeral. Every minute detail felt like a slap to face. And all the while is that people around us were happy. They did not acknowledge the death of a tremendous woman. Simply, we were treated like average Joes, just getting by.
The funeral was the most difficult thing I have ever experienced. I felt so empty, as if all my love was taken from me and was replaced with guilt and extreme sadness. The tears flowed like they were normal, too plentiful to pretend that they were. Collectively, we were all empty, all guilty of something unforeseen before she passed away. When the casket closed and was placed into the ground, her being vanished from us and left us with only memories.
Now that it has been almost three months since my grandmother has passed away, I cannot help but feel a new form of guilt build. This guilt, while the same premise as others, if based upon moving on. As the sun rises and sets day in and day out, I feel myself forgetting the inflections in her voice, the folds and lines in her face. I am forgetting the details of the last hug she gave me; how I winced in pain because she hugged me so tightly that her earring was pressed against my skin, as if to predict the pain I would be in only one month later. The last thing she gifted to me, a silver, heart-shaped necklace with lavender pearl in the center signifying love, the only solid object I have left of her. Months ago, I said goodbye with the promise of saying hello once more. Now, I say hello to the memory of her, in hopes I won’t forget everything she gave to