Having experienced the loss of someone dear rather recently, I am here to share with you the wound that the suicide leaves me with.
Although I don't cry myself awake anymore, the sense of loss and sorrow never seem to cease.
When memories flash back, I having problems sleeping.
Other times, I see him in my dreams.
It is always the same dream.
Every time I have this dream, I could only see a bit of his face or maximum his profile--he never turn back to look at me.
He looks so peaceful and calm, sitting at the armchair at his place, watching the ocean outside or staring into the air.
I am sitting on the armrest, talking to him and hoping that he'll stop looking at whatever he is looking at.
I am always hoping that he would turn his head and look at me, face-to-face.
I have so many questions to ask and so many things that I want to say to him.
The truth is, all I wish is to look at his face for one more time. Just that.
I don't wanna disturb his peaceful moment of watching the tides and the ocean.
So I usually sit on the armrest or the ground, leaning against the armchair he sits, very quietly.
Most of the time, both of us are quiet.
The only sound is the waves, slowing yet powerfully splashing to the shore.
Sometimes he speaks, talking about the funny things that happened during our childhood.
Sometimes he asks about my relationships and plans for life, then he stays quiet and just listen.
He always look calm and wears a smile on his face.
He seems normal--he recognizes me, remembers things and talk to me just the way he used to.
The only thing he doesn't seem to realize, is the harm that he did to himself and the sorrow he left me with.
Usually in the later part of the dream, I come to the knowledge that I am just having a dream and the fact that I lost him forever.
The reality is too unbearable and I find it too difficult to tell him the truth.
Unwilling to say goodbye, I remain quiet to enjoy a moment of peace with him.
Just a little bit more time, that's what I want.
This is when a peaceful dream turns into a painful one.
He drops the question, 'why didn't you come to see me for one last time?'
Talking about his funeral, which was held when I was not home.
Then it comes the time when he finally starts to slowly turn his head to face me, the moment that I have been waiting for.
And the same thing happens every time...
I wake up before I see his face.
The dream usually leaves me with pain, guilt and regret.
I find myself staring at dream interpretation books by Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung that sit on the bookshelf, thinking, 'should I find out what my dream means?'
No, I have not reached for the books.
I don't even know why I got those books a few years ago--I don't even trust psychoanalysis.
And even without the help of the books, it is obvious enough that I dream of him because I miss him and I wish I was there at his funeral to say goodbye.
Dear readers,
Like many other beautiful and precious things, life is fragile.
Please guard it with a strong will power, positivity and love.
Treasure and embrace life, because...
You are irreplaceable :)
Thanks for reading.
Love,
N
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