Grief and the little waves of it.

Hello! 

Hello, I am Angel, and I lost someone extremely close to me exactly three years, six months and nine days ago. Or 1289 days. Or so. 

I would be delighted to lie to you, and say it gets easier. It never truly does. 

My heart still beats and breaks for her, and there's a silly part of me that expects her to come out of the picture in my room to hug me. 

I understand that death is just part of life. It's just how it goes, right? 

But i'd like to talk about the raw anger grief brings. I wasn't just mad that she was gone, i was mad that the world somehow didn't go quiet to pay respect to her. I wished the days after her passing were dark, gray and rainy. But it was just a sunny day after another. I hated that the world was still turning. I hated that the clouds were still there. That the sun didn't hide it's face to pay respect to my feelings. And most of all, I hated that people just.. kept living. My parent kept living. My sibling kept living. Hell, even i kept living! I hated that even after losing her, i could see the beauty in the world. 

But i couldn't understand how no one was as crushed as i was. Maybe it's that we knew it was coming. But it still felt wrong to see my aunt giggle at the funeral. It felt wrong when she implied that dropping her at the family gravestone was a chore. It made me question her love. It also made me resent her. And it made me ask "When I die, will i be a chore to my children, too?" It felt like a lonely idea. 

I was angry. And hurt. Because i had just lost one of the loves of my life! I had just lost the person that cared for me, the one who helped me with homework, the person i saw the sea with, the one who made me warm cereal, the one who showed me my favorite book, my mother's mother, my best friend, the woman who sat to practice her signature, the woman who taught my sibling cursive, the woman who loved writing and teaching! 

After the funeral, i found one of her poems. It was about God, and her inmense love. It made my heart feel full. I had some of her words. 

But it didn't help with the bleeding wound in my heart. 

The waves of grief kept hitting me over and over again.

I'd like to say i was proactive, and that i did something good that could help me cope. I didn't. I took to smoking and drinking. Because the burning in my throat was a distraction from how my heart was burning, too. And the buzz that came with alcohol made my brain slower, and i wasn't thinking about her all the time. 

Whenever i got a drink, a little bit of it was spilled onto the ground. It was my way of saying "This one is for you". 

I've stopped myself from outright drowning in alcohol out of respect for her. Because she would've scolded me for it. But God, do i miss her. 

Anything reminds me of her. And that's good. Sometimes, even the smallest thing can be a wave. Looking at a chalk board, the smell of coffee in the mornings, hot chocolate, a specific house in the heart of the city. And i like it that way. Because we don't lose someone until we forget them. 

This is a big ramble, but i just wanted to get it out. 

A death is a stab to the heart. But the deeper the wound is, the deeper was the love.