“It’ll be alright,” I lied

April 24, 2013 at 2:13 pm (Reflections)

Always mesmerized by death, a one-way portal to a land uncharted, ha, isn’t that an ideal fantasy setting? A world without a map. Just like we dreamed to see in every other book, and oh, so few achieved it. Religion, faith, philosophy clothing our deepest darkest fear that there is, in fact, nothing past that portal… It’s exhausting to don these comforting masks of deception “it’ll be alright;” “he’s at a better place;” “she’s not suffering anymore.” But I am. Nothing is alright. Nothing is ever going to be alright again. How do I tell you that, my friend? How do I tell you that when someone you love dies, when a part of you dies, nothing will ever be alright, ever again? How do I protect you from the crippling pain in the throat that chokes you every time you want to utter a word of comfort, making it sound fake and insincere, making you sick to the stomach for the lies you have to wear on your face.

During the day – don’t ask me to feel. I can’t feel in front of you if you need me to comfort you. I don’t know how to do it. At night – don’t ask me to comfort you. I’m sorry, sorry, sorry, I can’t say sorry enough times or with big enough letters – I can’t. I can’t not feel. I can’t not cry. I can’t tell you it’s ok, I can’t tell you you won’t miss him. I can’t tell you they went to heaven, because I’m not sure I have a concept of heaven. If I ever had, it’s been so long ago, or for so short a time. And if we create our own heaven and hell, then I feel that I am doomed to agony, so I don’t want to believe that, either. But then I know oh, so very few truly happy souls that it looks like heaven may be a terribly lonely and underpopulated place.

Forgive me, friend, for I never learned how to share nor pain, nor comfort. Perhaps nor love, nor joy. Feelings always belong to oneself, and one’s soul chooses when or how to feel…


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