When grief carries you

By Siyanda Qamba

I’m holding onto my sanity by a thread.

My mind is trying to kill me. Well figuratively.

You see, since the first woman I called home, I called my heart, I called my peace left, it has been trying to wrap itself around this loss. This feeling of emptiness, of nothingness. A feeling of too much grief and very little love.

I’ve been grieving her death and mine since the day the hospital called asking me to come pick up her clothes.

I remember that day and it’s pain. Breathe Siyanda I say, breathe.

She’s just sleeping I convince myself. I convince myself that just like Jesus, she too will be resurrected.

It will be okay.

It never is okay.

I go from disbelief to hallucinating. I speak to her through dreams, I speak to get in daylight, I laugh, I sing, dance, get into bed in the evenings and cry my heart out.

I wait eagerly for the rapture, the resurrection whichever comes first doesn’t matter.

As long as she returns to me, she must return.

I spend a few months in this state, I become bizarre, I speak to myself, laugh alone, avoid going out in the daytime, sing to the moon at night and plead with God for herself return when I have no energy to dance to the moon.

I lose my mind completely. I avoid mirrors, I bask in my own silence, I hardly smile and I think of death increasingly.

The nagging feeling that she might not return tags at me, I rebuke the devil and plan her return. With the same energy I plan my own funeral.

Roses for the memorial, read poetry and don’t read an obituary. These people already know of your life. They need not an obituary to remind them.

I sit in the kitchen and take the pills out, I read up on the quickest way to die, I think of prayer, does one smile when they die? Do you jubilation because you are returning to your loved ones or do we merely die.

I am yet to find the answer to that.

For more posts about suicidal thought click here 

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