I&rsquo;d like to say that I saw you last Saturday. Amidst the crowd filling each lettered street to the brim, you were there standing in the middle, wearing the same clothes I saw you wore last year. And the year before that. And the year before&hellip;
It&rsquo;s been three years now.
I keep joking around, saying that maybe I should take you shopping. The people around me still laugh to fill the awkward silence after my failed punchline. They must think I&rsquo;m going crazy, but you&rsquo;ve been sporting the same look since then, and it gets tiring to see that tattered white dress barely hanging on your skin.
Everything barely hangs on to you these days. Whether it be clothes or memories, it feels like everything is slowly waning.&nbsp;
I cope by blaming it on the constant ticking of the clock. Time never stopped for anyone, and it surely won&rsquo;t stop for me, even if I beg all the heavens to give me a breather. So, I continue to blame time for the blurry pictures in my dreams that were once vivid three years ago. I blame time for the fading sound of your laughter that rings inside my head when I try to remember its fullness.
I blame time whenever I forget because I can never accept that I actually could.
In moments where life seems okay and I momentarily forget the grief, happiness turns sour and morphs into the monster I call guilt. It&rsquo;s an involuntary yet unavoidable occurrence whenever I fail to remember you. I can&rsquo;t help it... Because how could I be happy when I should be hurting? How could my life truly be okay when it&rsquo;s a life where you are not present?
I don&rsquo;t have the answer. I probably never will have it.
Last weekend, I &ldquo;consoled&rdquo; myself by coming to see you. I sat down on the bench in front of your tombstone and got punched in the gut because of how empty the seat beside me was. I felt it all again&ndash; the pain, the anguish, the torment of missing you every day.&nbsp;
Grief struck my heart like I think it always should, like an eternal punishment because you left too early and I didn&rsquo;t go with you.&nbsp;
Then, the weekend passed.
The grief stayed.
I&rsquo;m not sure if it should stay that way.