Published by: Michelle Piquero
Date Published: October 1, 2024
Time Published: 12:20 PM
Category: Prose
Subject: The idea of grief
Everything was taught to me ever since I was a kid. Reading, writing, speaking—everything. So I can say that as I grow up, I know almost everything. In every situation I’m in, I know what to do and not to do, and I know what to feel in that moment. I know everything.
Not until the day came where I woke up and I saw you lying on the floor, unconscious. You're barely moving—breathing; you're barely breathing. People were panicking; they didn't know what to do. Some of them are crying, and some of them are screaming for help.
Me? I did nothing. My body just froze. My feet were glued to the ground as I watched them take you in the ambulance truck. My mind was blank; I couldn't hear anything; everything was blurry. I didn't know what to do.
I didn't know what to do.
I didn't know what I was feeling at the time. Sad? Shocked? No. No, it was more than that. God, I don't know. Why don't I know? I’m supposed to know what I’m feeling.
When I heard that you're gone, I completely lost it. I thought I knew everything. I'm supposed to know everything. I'm supposed to know what to do and feel. Heck, I couldn't even tell what emotion I’m feeling in that situation. All I know is that I couldn't stop crying; I could almost hear my heart shattering.
“You're grieving.”
Grieving. How come I didn't know that? How come no one taught me that? Is grief so unpredictable that many people don't also know about it?
Reading, writing, speaking—everything was taught to me. Everything but grief. Even when years already went by, I still couldn't get the hang of it. I can literally spend the happiest day of my life, and the moment I remember you, everything inside me will instantly shatter as I cry my heart out.
I can laugh the loudest laugh, and I can still realize that the house has been quiet for years ever since you were gone. Your voice doesn't fill the room anymore. I already forgot the sound of someone cooking in the kitchen because your presence is not there. I already forgot the sound of your laugh, and all I can do is curl up and cry about it. The colorful holidays I once looked forward to turned gray because what's the point of celebrating it when you're not here anymore?
Grief is indeed unpredictable, as was the day that I lost you.
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