My grief journey

This has turned into a grief blog. It's part of my life now. You don't move on from grief, it's not like regular breakup or something you can move on from. Instead, you live with a newfound sadness. It's literally quite depressing so I don't talk about it. My default emotion used to be enthusiastic, but has since been replaced by withdrawn. I'm still functioning as an ENTP the last time I checked; it's still my core character. But I've mellowed and softened a lot since, not due to age but by my experience. Age hasn't mellowed me one bit, I'm still lashing out with gusto at injustice. But I pick my battles more wisely now.

I once spoke to a pastor casually about not being able to move on. It was at the end of the service and we stood around chatting. I told him this: "I'll never move on. This grief will take forever." He dismissed me, "Rubbish. You will eventually move on, it won't take forever." I realised I should have kept that to myself and I've never uttered anything like that again. I also thought to myself, he must not have lost any loved ones before.

I'm a very reflective person at night. I reflect alot on the day's passing and every night hits hard when my thoughts land on my sister. Those nights I wanted to do a post, yet I didn't. It's always the same thing anyway, what's new?

Tonight I finally caved.

Some 3.5 years have passed and no, it didn't get easier. The questions got more complexed and the answers I drew from my own blended thoughts got more mysterious. So she died from depression, it was sudden but it wasn't unexpected. At least not to me. The tears have subsided significantly but the heartache grew in volume. It's unfathomable yet I understood it.

The breaking point has got to be my kids. Beth definitely only remembered my sis through stories and pictures. She was 16 months old when her aunt, my sis, passed. And Elijah. I yearned for her to see him, I can almost imagine her shaking her head with resignation at his uncontrollable rowdiness.

My sis would have been great with my kids. She would spoil them like no other. I accept she's gone. I accept it all. But it didn't matter what I knew or didn't, she's gone and that's the hardest pill to swallow.

Tonight, I wallow in my sorrow.