The problem with adult life is when we reach that stage where we slowly begin lose the people that matter in our lives. We know that death is a certainty. It will surely come though we don’t know when or how. I always thought I’d die young (What can I say, I was a morbid kid.) so the prospect of seeing and dealing with such loss wasn’t part of my so called “life manual” or natural defenses.
Death leaves us with a pain that never goes away. It’s a heartbreak that never heals. Somehow, I have learned to keep grief and hurt in that part of my brain that only responds to logic. It sounds insane to reason your way out of sadness. Somehow it works and distracts your mind from dwelling too much on the matter. Though there will always be times, maybe not too often that the pain escapes and rolls down my eyes. I try to find comfort in the memories. If only I had more of them than regrets.
I have been going back and forth, trying to dissect my brain why on earth am I having another sensory overload. I am used to managing my emotions and I just hate it when it gets the better me. Suddenly, everything feels. (If that’s even a real sentence.) I like being insentive, numb, and oblivious, that hardly anything or anyone gets to you. I like keeping a safe distance, much like looking at life through a viewfinder and having a camera between me and everything else.
“Life is short,” my best friend kept repeating after she was diagnosed with a terminal disease. How I wished it was just a scare or an error somehow. But now that she had started treatment, it’s as real as it can be. What can we do? I don’t even know what to say to her. I try to make sense of it all but fall short each time. It takes real effort to be optimistic and keep believing that she’ll come out on top of this. Stage 3 is stage 3 after all. But the will to fight is still there in her eyes. Life is short is a clichè until you’re given a deadline.
I gave up asking why. There are just things that are out of our hands. Maybe it’s not really about losing or the prospect of losing someone and the regrets that come with it but rather learning to appreciate those who are still with us. Make time to build tons of memories and find the words to let them know how much they mean to us. Now, I find myself trying to reconnect with old friends, finding meaning in random conversations, enjoying long drives with cheesy music in the background, wanting to get lost in the unfamiliar, learning to let go and forgive, chasing new dreams and not just sunsets, or just being totally content with sharing breakfasts with Mom. How cornier can I get? (insert face palm)
There’s a sense of restlessness inside I couldn’t explain. I’m not used to being overwhelmed with emotions, much less allow anyone else to see. I’m blabbering again… probably bordering incoherence. This is how I try to rationalize my way out of whatever this is. Crazy? Nah! Just foolish, I guess.