By all appearances she was a happy girl. But deep deep down in her heart there lived a small sadness which had lived there since the day she was born. A small sadness which grew a little bit bigger and a little bit darker each time her heart was broken or in pain.
But she hid it well, under layers of sunny smiles or eyes that looked down and away each time the threat of tears came and the lump in her throat began to build.
For to acknowledge that sadness would be to confront that sadness – and after living with it all her life, she did not know if she could live without it, either.
It’s been an awful week for me. My granduncle passed away over the weekend very young, very painfully, and very suddenly- but before we could deal with the shock, there has been another blow. My dear grandfather suffered a stroke and is now unable to speak, swallow, or walk. I’ve spent the past week feeling like wave after wave of cold water has broken over my head anddrowned whatever little optimism I have earned in the past year of healing and recovery.
I am terrified of losing a loved one again. When I dream of my grandmother, I wake up, the memories fresh and my sobs still an echo in my ears. I feel a stab of pain and loss so palpable that my chest hurts and I cannot breathe because I am winded by this phantom pain.
Most of all, I feel alone. Have you ever felt too tired to even explain how you are feeling? Because you know, somehow, even if you found the words to describe that huge hole in your heart, that no one would truly and fully understand how you feel?
Maybe I was born lonely.