A Portrait of Grief

A portrait of grief

In all honesty, I don't know how to carry on, not without you.

I stumbled on the road, mid-journey, just to look back. And I spent two whole summers believing I would forget you. The roses I left by your grave withered and died long ago, but somewhere in my heart, I kept them alive.

We laughed and danced at the future, and you never let me imagine that there could ever be one without you. We framed the pictures with our smiles and hung them all over the walls. Now I pick them up, one by one, to turn them over… to color over them in gray.

You never imagine a life without — you hover over the moment as if it were forever, and how deceitful forever can be. You never imagine a day without — you let each second pass like it owes you more time. We let the moment slip away, and some of us end up standing at the edge of the cliff, too scared to leap into the water. And when we finally look up, they’re no longer by our side. They’re already swimming away. If we’re lucky, they wait — they wave us over — but still, we stand there, too afraid to jump.

I know when I should have jumped. I should have reached for you, should have lifted you as you drowned. But I stood there, fascinated, watching — thinking that by staying on the sidelines, the damage would somehow be less.

Then I woke up one day, and you were gone. So was the past, and so was our future. I had to color over the frames, I had to learn how to rewrite all the songs. The melody grew less rhythmic, the bees stopped humming by the petals. I scraped through every piece of memory just to look back without the soreness, without the thought that I should have done better, that I should have been better for you… for me.

God, you wanted me to reach for the stars. You believed in me when I couldn’t. You picked up the paintbrush when all I had was the empty canvas of my life.

The strength I had to color wasn’t because I had a dream, but because I dreamt of you. I coated the yellows with your memory, mixed the reds with your desires, blended the blacks with your sorrows, and created the purples from your hopes. A canvas of my life, painted with the hues of your ardor.

Now, I stare at the painting, feeling as though I stole something from you.

I should have taken more pictures. I should have let the sound of your laughter linger, as it seems that I will forever be haunted by your memory. But you are gone, and your perfume is still pressed on the silk pillows, and your shadows still dance along the walls.

I made the tombstone with your favorite color, repainting it after every storm. I still haven't found the courage to leave this place. I circle petals around where you lay, and I dream—our dream, a future with you in it.

By the time the dream fades, I can no longer move my body from this field I lie. Anything else feels like a nightmare, so I sing and loiter by our memories. I imagine you holding out your hand to me, but every time I get near, you disappear. I have dedicated myself to this daunting, futile task of finding you—somewhere in the ether, a place just out of reach.

I still can’t imagine a life without you in it.

Forever, our souls lie in spirit, and I will grieve and remember until I learn how to forget....