It just comes.
Out of nowhere.
Knocking you out completely.
One moment you’re watching a romantic comedy movie, the next you’re trying very hard to stop yourself from crying because you’re alone and you don’t want to start something you’re afraid you won’t be able to stop.
Grief doesn’t really go away, right?
It’s just there. Waiting to come out and exhausting your heart and mind in the process.
One moment you’re thinking about mundane things, the next you’re thinking how life can be so unfair that something so good has been taken away from you.
One moment, you wish you have more time to reply to emails, the next you’re thinking about what you would want to do had she still been alive.
One moment you are looking at your speech trophies, the next moment you remember that the reason you joined speech contests in the first place was to make her proud because you love to see her smile the moment you say “I won.”
One moment you’re nothing but a normal person who goes through daily tasks, the next you’re this really, really sad human being who cannot even imagine why this ever happened to you.
Or the reason of this all.
Because even if your faith tells you that there is a greater reason for things, that the reason is something you might not understand now, you can’t help but wish that maybe, it wouldn’t have been asking for too much if you were given more time with her. Just more time to make more memories. Because the memories are still not enough. I long for more.
These thoughts, the sadness that goes with them, the type of feeling that rips your heart apart, they just come.
I know they’ll come still. I know they won’t stop coming.
And there will be pain.
It’s just that, I think through time, we just learn how to control our feelings so that we think less about the pain and more about how we can be happy.
Because that’s what she would’ve wanted.
For me to be happy.
That’s what I’ll try to do.
Pain and all.