MISSING HIM
19/1/22
I still cry myself to sleep thinking about him
The tears fall thick and fast but always end as abruptly as they came
As if my body is saying “you’re not allowed to mourn”
You’re not allowed to mourn because you are oceans away
Oceans away from the blotted hospital bed, his ever so yellow skin and hacking smoker’s cough
Oceans away from the heartache and the pain; from my Nan warming her fourth microwave meal of the week because she can not bear to cook.
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With that much distance it’s easy to block it all out, easy to think of something else and people will say that you don’t have it as bad as they do. At least they could go to the funeral.
I was holding back tears before it even began. Mum put it on the TV like it was the evening’s news.
Watching the backs of everyone’s heads to avoid looking at the coffin. I wonder what he is wearing and is he is actually in there or is it just for show?
Mum waves at the screen for the second time, letting her tears fall onto the rug that he had bought her so many years ago.
Days after, we laid flowers into the sea for him, setting him free from his pain. Such a simple gesture made the mass at the pit of my stomach loosen just a bit.
My sister did not attend any of it. I still haven’t forgiven her for that and I doubt I ever will.
The weeks and months that followed became a blur. An endless slog of moments. My mind works overtime to distract myself, not knowing what to do with the love that I had for him.
It’s been a little over a year now and I have tried not to count my time in anniversaries. It’s hard not to notice that his name is no longer in my Christmas cards.
One year on and the swollen agony of your lose is still very much here, creeping it’s way into song lyrics in the dead of night.
I’m not a religious person but wherever you are but there’s something comforting about the idea of ghosts. I know you’re not in pain anymore. You’re safe, sitting in your worn out armchair doing a crossword looking down. Peaceful at last.
