Grief is Complicated.

Anxiety is complicated. Grief is complicated. What I’m feeling is complicated. And I don’t even know what I’m feeling, which makes it even more complicated.

I’m an anxious person, and I don’t know how to deal with grief, so every 16th of July I find myself feeling sad, lonely and speechless. I guess. Should I fight it? Should I embrace it? Should I just wait for it to go away?

The thing is, four years have passed, and it still hurts. Will this wound ever heal? Will this void ever be filled? Or will it at least get smaller and smaller and eventually close up with time? It’s black, and it’s deep.

It’s not like the place I imagine you are in, though. I imagine you are in the wind, whispering reassuring words in my ear and stroking my hand. I imagine you are in the grass, growing shiny and smiling. I imagine you are in the blue sky, laughing at seeing me so sad, because you are so much better off than us, so why would I be crying?

I cry because I’m selfish, and I miss you by my side. I miss our laughs when nobody else understood why we were laughing. But we knew. Even when you lost your words, we could still laugh together, because we didn’t need words.

Yes, you are doing great and I’m an idiot for crying, but can I ask you to stop laughing at me, please?

By the way, when Grandma was looking for that old picture and it was not there, and then she looked again in the same exact place and suddenly it was there… I know it was you. I’m glad you had your fun, and thanks for showing up.

And the blessings you sent me in the last four years… I know it was you. And the wind in my hands even when it’s 40C degrees outside… I know it’s you. And I’m so grateful.

I love you, and I always will, my guardian angel.

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