When Photographs Become Futile, Painful Reminders

Sight Insight

I’ve found out the hard way that nothing, absolutely nothing can prepare you for the demise of a loved one, even if you’ve accepted a fatalistic outcome. There were moments during your treatment where I knew for certain that you wouldn’t make it, but I chose to soldier on and be optimistic, because you had, in the middle, shown signs of improvement. But you left abruptly; a choking, gasping departure; and out of nowhere, I was hit by this massive surge of despair. It was not just grief that hit me the night you left, Schmoo, but also a paralysing fear... The fear of not having anyone to come home to, or take care of, or just exist with.

It’s been a month since we parted ways. Even with the incredible outpour of love and support that I’ve received, it’s been hard to carry on with my day(s). It’s a little overwhelming being around people who knew you. Don’t get me wrong, Schmoo. I am deeply indebted to them for their kindness, but the sadness and compassion in their words is a stifling reminder of your absence.

Sleep has eluded me. I wake up tired and forlorn. It’s not happiness that I seek, but a sense of ordinariness. Work keeps me distracted, but it’s when I have to finally head home that I am the most afraid. The house is too still and quiet. It is deafening. I’ve tried filling the silence with music, but it’s too glaringly obvious what I am trying to hide.