I got home this evening emotionally charged, with my tearducts swollen beyond maximum. Every now and then, they sneak and roll down my cheeks without my consent but today I heard myself wail. The only other time I heard that sound was when we were burying. I remember hearing a loud scream and then looking around for the origin of the noise. Only then did I realise that everyone’s head was looking at me, which had to mean that I was the one making the shocking sound. I had my head buried in Jojo’s chest and I was screaming like someone who was having their skin peeled off.
And so today I found myself screaming in a similar manner, except that I had to park my car a little distance from home and roll my Windows up. Because the last thing I would want would be to upset my mother. Because as much as I lost a father, she lost a best friend, spouse and companion of more than 30 years. My loss doesn’t even begin to compare.
And then it hit me that I’ve spent the last few months trying to make everyone around me comfortable with my grief and havent really taken any time off for me. If I’m not trying not to upset my mother, I’m trying not to upset my siblings, or to make sure my friends aren’t walking on eggshells around me just because I’m grieving. I’ve bent over backwards to appear okay, and in the process haven’t given myself much time to deal with the situation and begin to recover. If I had, I wouldn’t be wailing in the street. At least I don’t think I would.
So I’ve decided to take some time off and process my feelings. Call it the activation of ‘Hermit Mode’. I probably won’t be taking calls or responding to texts for the next few days. Please bear with me.
Hugs and kisses…
There’s so much I wish to say and do but I do not know where to start. It’s weird because I actually know which steps I need to take. But knowing and actually doing are two completely different things.
On most days, I can’t get myself to do much. Besides eat, of course, because even on my worst day, I can still eat enough for two grown men, at least. How I wish I were one of those people who get stressed or sick or sad and lose their appetite!
Anyway, I’ve received A LOT of support from my friends over the past two months, something I cannot take lightly. If it weren’t for them, I’d probably be fully depressed right now. Thank God for the endless distractions and the unawkward silences. I really don’t know where I’d be otherwise.
I’m off work for the rest of the week. And as you can imagine, my to-do list is sky high. I’ve resolved to try and reduce that list in the coming weeks, because my lack of productivity is actually starting to bother me. A lot of people say recovery is a choice. And while I, for the most part, don’t really agree with the statement as I feel like it invalidates our daily struggles to reach recovery even while it might take some time, I feel like I might need to be a little bit harder on myself, push some more lest this state of hopelessness and just being becomes a way of life. We really wouldn’t want that.
I guess it’s in times like this that being an empath comes in handy. I channel people’s energy and then mirror it. And I spent this evening around hopeful, inspired, hardworking ladies and their energy is bubbling forth in me. Hopefully I’ll be able to preserve enough of it to get me through the days ahead.
But for now, let me try to get some sleep. Tomorrow is another day.
Good thoughts and good wishes to you all…
❤ Zeri ❤
Out of all the days of the week, Sunday reminds me of my father the most. We always woke up to the sound of him noisily making something in the kitchen, using every single surface in the room while at it. Daddy was such a messy cook, but we wouldn’t dare complain lest he stopped cooking up his Sunday storm altogether. His cooking style was minimal; as little spices as he could get away with. And don’t get me started on those roasts that took the whole day to get ready. He was always so proud of his finished work. And I loved how my opinion was so valued considering I am the resident foodie and the pickiest eater you’ll ever meet.
So today, being a Sunday, was really hard on all of us. We keep looking at the gate whenever we hear a sound , hoping he’ll have come back. My brain has completely refused to accept the fact that we left him in a garden somewhere far away, and that we will never see him again. It all happened so fast. And I for one haven’t had the time to process it. I can’t even stand to look at a picture of him, as it has me going back to the moment I heard the words, “He’s gone. Daddy is gone,” and then slowly going through everything else that happened since then. Death is such a strange and unnatural thing. Do people sometimes get used to it? Do you move on?
I feel like my heart breaks a little more every day. And I don’t even know how to express that. Life seems to have moved on. The sun is still rising and setting as usual; birds chirping, music playing… Yet I’m still crying, whenever no one can see me. I want my daddy back 😦
About a day or two ago, Liz shared a little note about directness and the role it plays in our lives, our relationships and our daily interactions and it got me thinking quite a bit. Call it a virtual slap in the face, if you may. I used to be the most direct person on the planet. Okay, maybe not, but really really direct anyway. Many of my friends can attest to that. But somewhere along the way, conversations got shorter, time more limited and life more complicated.
As we go along, it becomes increasingly hard to say what we mean in 5 minutes or in 140 characters (damn you, Twitter!) And so I’ve found myself postponing one too many conversations that I really should have, mentally promising to remember to have them if a chance of lengthy conversation ever presents itself. And I feel like a lot of my friendships are now a bunch of conversations that haven’t yet happened.
Why is so much demanding for our time these days? You do not realise how important quality time is until you sit down with your friends and instead of catching up (and I mean minute-by-minute since you last saw each other kind of catching up), you both type away at your phones while occasionally taking a sip of your drinks or taking a bite of your meal.
Why do we feel like we’ll die if we don’t get retweeted or if 200 more people do not follow us on social media ? Why are we living our lives for the approval of others; strangers to whom we’re only as good as the next hot gossip? Why do we strive for their acceptance, all the while unintentionally rendering the ones who actually know and love us for what we really are when the internet is off the opportunity cost? Why are we like this?
We are a suffering generation, you and I, and the sooner we realise this, the better. We’ve been infected by the illusions of the internet, which will sooner or later morph into disillusionment because let’s face it, how much of that is real? Sure, we have many many virtual likes but how is that helping our lives? How does it make me better? How does it make you better?
We need to think long and hard about this trend we’re developing and whether it’s really worth it. Because one day, we’re all going to wake up and we’ll be all alone. You are more than what you tweet/snap/gram etc. Never forget that. Go out there and BE more.
You Mustn’t Look for Perfection in Your Friends. You Must Look for Affection – Ruskin Bond – http://www.theseeds4life.com/mustnt-look-perfection-friends-must-look-affection-ruskin-bond