It will be a year today since my Ba passed away. And I sit here at 3:09AM trying to find the best way of telling you that nothing has changed. It feels pathetic and saddening. 365 days post that traumatic event, I can’t even lie and say that everything is better and everyone has moved on, because it isn’t and they haven’t. We’ve been coasting.
I want to tell you that I don’t feel cheated. I want to tell you that I am dealing with it in the best way that I possibly can. I really want to tell you that I am being mature about it. But I can’t tell you any of those things, because they are lies. I still feel as bitter as I did the day I found out what happened, I have just found better ways of dealing with it. It still haunts me because I am yet to understand the full implications of it.
I am away from my family. In the cocoon of my university life, I am sheltered from grief and reminders. All I have is a picture of us all from my brother’s graduation, but I can’t bear to look at it today. That was happy occasion, showered with love and pride, yet I can’t help feeling angry because she will miss all of the happy occasions to come. She will miss us getting married. She will miss holding her great-grandchildren. She will miss us growing old together.
And I miss her more than I thought I would. In two days, I will celebrate my birthday with friends that I did not think I would have the fortune to have after such a short space of time here on my own. Yet there is a part of me that feels empty knowing that when I call home, I will not hear her voice and she will not be able to feed cake to me. Every birthday for the rest of my life will be taunted by this memory.
Though it does not do well to dwell on these things and to remember her as she was, a part of me cannot remember. Every day, something fades and disappears into the banks of my consciousness and will continue to. Time is no healer. Time rearranges the sand so that we cannot make out the dunes any more. It is only when I shut my eyes tight and look into my childhood that I remember her smile, her laugh, her face. A glimmer of hope.
As I sit here, having to stop after ever four words to dry the tears that are streaming from my eyes, I don’t feel better. 365 days down, I still feel grieved and I am tired of feeling upset. I am tired of feeling frustrated and angry – I just want to find a place where I can see a picture of her without wanting to thrash or sob or cry out.
I want to smile. But clearly 365 days is not enough time.