Death of a Loved One

So, this is more of a serious rambling. Prepare yourself, my dear reader.

I was reading a Harry Potter fanfic – like I usually do. There was this scene between Harry and an understanding (mmm) adult, who tells Harry that he needs to accept/come to terms with Sirius’ death, his Godfather, by the end of summer. 

Excuse me, sir.

What.

Da frick is that bull?!

I understand it’s a story that someone wrote for fun, but it was obviously not written by someone who understands the agony and pain that comes from the death of a loved one. 

One does not ‘get over’ it by a certain designated timeline. We never get over it. Period. We continue to live and breathe, yes – and hopefully not inside a darkened well of crippling depression – but we are not all right with it. We are not fine. Trust me, we are lying to your face if we say we’re fine.

It’s a lie, a facade, a veneer, a mask.

It’s been 1,095 days, exactly three years to this day, since the passing of my dearest friend, my Mom. No, I’m not okay with it. I never have been; I never will be. Of course, I have a level of peace that comes with my faith in my religion. I know I will see her again. But such knowledge doesn’t eliminate the void of her absence.

Those of us who know of this pain we just have to keep carrying our broken hearts, anxiously waiting for the time when we’ll be reunited with loved ones who have passed on first.

Hang in there, my dearest readers.

Anthy