1. Losing my mom.
2. Forgetting the sound of her laugh little by little.
3. Walking into her room and seeing everything exactly where she left it.
4. Seeing her name in my contacts and knowing she won’t answer.
5. Watching everyone slowly move on while I’m still grieving her.
There is a quiet, terrifying horror in the fact that I am still breathing. My lungs still take in air, my heart still beats, and I hate my body for continuing to live when hers couldn't. The world just kept moving, entirely unbothered, while my entire reality was violently ripped away.
The absolute cruelest part of losing my lady is realizing that the world didn’t even pause. The day after she died, the grocery store was still open. Neighbors still bitched about the weather. People smiled. Life just casually, callously marched forward, completely indifferent to the fact that the most important person in my universe had vanished into thin air.
For everyone else, it was just a Tuesday. For me, it was the end of the world.
Now, I live in this permanent, agonizing split-screen. When something incredible happens, the joy instantly curdles into a sick, hollow ache because my immediate instinct is to tell her and then the reality hits me all over again, fresh and violent, that I will never hear her voice say my name. When everything falls apart, I look around for her protection, only to find nothing but empty space.
I’m still here. I breathe, I work, I answer texts. But it’s a performance. I am just a hollow shell going through the motions of survival because I am forced to.
I didn't just lose my mom. I lost my only absolute certainty. I lost the only person on this entire earth who loved me without a single condition, who held my history in her bones, and who was the only place I ever felt entirely safe. Now, no matter where I go, or how successful I am, I am permanently homesick for a person I can’t see this hella lifetime.
I don’t miss you only on special days. I miss you when I see something funny. I miss you when I’m sick. I miss you when I accomplish something. I miss you when I’m struggling.I miss you when I off to bed & work w empty stomach. I miss you in all the tiny moments nobody talks about. That’s where grief lives—in the ordinary parts of life she should still be here for. Love you & miss you every day Till We Meet Again Always & Forever.
Still wondering why heaven
Needed you more than I Did
Kalyanii
2. Forgetting the sound of her laugh little by little.
3. Walking into her room and seeing everything exactly where she left it.
4. Seeing her name in my contacts and knowing she won’t answer.
5. Watching everyone slowly move on while I’m still grieving her.
There is a quiet, terrifying horror in the fact that I am still breathing. My lungs still take in air, my heart still beats, and I hate my body for continuing to live when hers couldn't. The world just kept moving, entirely unbothered, while my entire reality was violently ripped away.
The absolute cruelest part of losing my lady is realizing that the world didn’t even pause. The day after she died, the grocery store was still open. Neighbors still bitched about the weather. People smiled. Life just casually, callously marched forward, completely indifferent to the fact that the most important person in my universe had vanished into thin air.
For everyone else, it was just a Tuesday. For me, it was the end of the world.
Now, I live in this permanent, agonizing split-screen. When something incredible happens, the joy instantly curdles into a sick, hollow ache because my immediate instinct is to tell her and then the reality hits me all over again, fresh and violent, that I will never hear her voice say my name. When everything falls apart, I look around for her protection, only to find nothing but empty space.
I’m still here. I breathe, I work, I answer texts. But it’s a performance. I am just a hollow shell going through the motions of survival because I am forced to.
I didn't just lose my mom. I lost my only absolute certainty. I lost the only person on this entire earth who loved me without a single condition, who held my history in her bones, and who was the only place I ever felt entirely safe. Now, no matter where I go, or how successful I am, I am permanently homesick for a person I can’t see this hella lifetime.
I don’t miss you only on special days. I miss you when I see something funny. I miss you when I’m sick. I miss you when I accomplish something. I miss you when I’m struggling.I miss you when I off to bed & work w empty stomach. I miss you in all the tiny moments nobody talks about. That’s where grief lives—in the ordinary parts of life she should still be here for. Love you & miss you every day Till We Meet Again Always & Forever.
Still wondering why heaven
Needed you more than I Did
Kalyanii
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