I woke up knowing exactly how I would feel today: a sense of loss.
That painful and eternal sense of loss which does not heal and will never be.
It doesn't take a circle on the calendar to remind me what day today is.
It doesn't take an alarm for me to remember what happened two years ago on this exact date.
It doesn't take any kind of reminder at all.
The wound is still there. Fresh.
It doesn't heal, it just doesn't.
I'm not prepared to say goodbye - I wonder if I would ever be ready.
Perhaps I have a fixation about saying goodbyes.
To be exact, the fear of not being able to say goodbye at all.
There is no greater regret than having words unsaid, thoughts unshared and feelings unpaired.
That's why I'm always all or nothing.
When I open up, I pour everything.
And it's always more about the process, not the result.
It kills me that I haven't had the chance to say goodbye to him.
There was no goodbye or even the slightest sign that he was going to leave.
And when he left, I wasn't even there at his funeral.
We were supposed to meet for dinner,
he was supposed to live a longer life,
he was supposed to be here in my life to watch me grow up.
What if he give himself up? Would he be happy?
But there is no "supposed to" and "what if", it's unfortunately all my wishful thinking only…
Letting go of people I love is a really tough lesson.
It's never gonna be easy for me - I feel to deeply and my memory doesn't allow me to forget people who have made their marks in my life.
Images running in my mind, their voices in my ears…these people basically tattooed on me, their marks last for as long as I live.
I sometimes seethe with anger that he just left and whatever/whoever that caused him to do it.
And all these anger and sorrow are rooted in the one same thing: love.
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