Many have lost people close to them, and we all have a different way of dealing with it. However as a depressive, the grieving process can be a dangerous one.
On the early hours of Friday morning, I lost my nephew Biki. For the first time, in a long time, I was forced to deal with a massive loss in my life. A loss that could not be reconciled by a few text messages and calls. A loss that leaves not only me, but many around me broken in many different ways. For the first time, I could not lean heavily on my mother for strength as she too had lost a loved one. I was forced to examine my progress on my medication, and determine just how strong I had become, and if I could be strong for others.
The mourning process is difficult as you are constantly surrounded by people who share the same loss, but chose to express it differently. You find yourself arguing with family as you don’t think one is not crying enough, or one is crying too much. You find yourself preoccupied with excessive cleaning and cooking, all in the aim to forget the tragedy at hand. The name of the deceased floats in everyones minds, each afraid to be the stupid individual that makes the mistake of saying it out load. Every action you do seems to remind you of the past. The past where loss was not your reality, and your family unit was not short of one member. You catch people staring into the distance, their eyes glistening with tears.
I catch myself crying, not sure when exactly I had started or what had triggeresd it. I think of how he will never have the opportunity to vote for the first time, never see his grade 10 results, never have an ID, never be a father. I feel robbed, for I won’t be able to share these moments with him. I then notice that the tears have disappeared, and have been replaced by rage. Angry at why he was taken so soon, and why it had to be him.
This experience is teaching me the importance of family, and living everyday surrounded by those you love.