The Nooks in the Limbo of a Bereaved

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Warm stinging rays made my eyes blink involuntarily. I had forgotten to shut my blinds again. I flinched and rolled to the other side of the bed as my eyes adjusted to the daylight engulfing my room. Awake and slowly becoming aware of my environment, I felt my chest tighten and my heart sink. That same sinking feeling that had been consuming every fiber of my being for weeks was wide awake too.

My tired and unwilling feet managed to take me to the door. I opened my front door for no apparent reason and there she was. But of course, the signs were there - like the heaviness in my heart and the air that always smells like burnt wood when she is around. “Oh, good Grief.” I rolled my eyes and smirked. Typical of her to show up in the most unpredictable ways. This time, her presence was heavy.

“Did you come with a little suitcase today?” I cried out a little loudly that my neighbor from across the street looked at me funny.

I've had worse days with Grief but she had never spent the night. “I must be in for a long one,” I whispered this time. I could feel her stare and I thought her lips parted gently. I held my breath in anticipation. What was she going to say to me? Perhaps she had brought me something other than sober reflections this time.

The first time I met Grief was the day my life changed forever. “Can you hear me? Mummy is gone.” My younger brother’s voice pierced me with a lifeless tone and all the life in me seeped out in a deafening shriek. Grief came to me like a turbulent wind lifting me off the ground and smashing me into the crust of the earth. Ever since, we have established a peculiar relationship. I stopped questioning my sanity a long time ago. You see, in my unending moments of despair, I had personified this feeling and even breathed life into it. Grief had tweaked the lines between my sanity and imagination.

The first time I saw her face, I was taken aback. Grief has ocean eyes, soft red lips, and a wicked stare that bores into my soul. I call her Cornie - shameless, rude, callous, and unpredictable.

Cornie doesn't give a damn about wherever I am. She shows up when I am alone, with company, at work, between the lines of a song, and even a book. One time, she showed up at a scene in “Miracle in Cell no 7.” The part where Ova’s dad was given the death penalty. I tried to ignore her presence but she didn't yield. I felt her curl up beside me on the couch and gave me my moment.

Frankly, sometimes my despair and nostalgia let her in and those are jolly days for her. She’d stay for as long as she wanted. She’d sit in silence as I supplicate on my mat, brew my coffee, and do the most mundane things. Always a step behind me. You see, I told you Cornie has ocean eyes and soft red lips. So on those days, she is gentle with me and I find a little bit of solace drowning in the depth of her eyes.

Other times, Cornie is quick and brutal. Like a thief in the night, she tries to steal my joy and cast shadows on my sunny days. I could easily hate Cornie but I don't. I do not like the way she makes me feel but I find myself holding on to her like life itself.

Without permission, I felt her move past me to unpack her luggage and that was the dawn of reliving the beautiful memories that were painfully tucked into the crevices of my heart. Blue days, purple nights, wet pillows, and deafening silences. Cornie was taking me on a journey I wasn't ready for.

The memories of my mother tossed me around familiar places. I thought about the great times I had spent with her. Her contagious laughter that reached her eyes to reveal her soul, the smell of her perfectly seasoned fried rice, the soothing pleasant tone in her voice when she would say to me, “Ya Isa(it's okay)” and all my worries would disappear like magic. Her mere existence was enough for me.

I looked into the mirror and I didn't see just my reflection. I saw my mother’s eyes and all the women before her. I saw strength, tenderness, power, and resilience. Right there, it echoed in my heart that I am my ancestors’ wildest dream and that's indeed a privilege. I felt Cornie beside me but she had become lighter like the knot in my heart.

Those memories came as reminders. Not the gentle ones but the kinds that sting. I have realized that those memories(The thread between the living and the dead) are not to be shoved. They are fragile treasures that should be cherished. Love and loss are two sides of a coin and the pain is only a reflection of how deeply you loved.

Cornie had come with something other than misery. She came to me with a gift of time. The time spent with my mother will remain on replay in my heart forever.

Then I saw it in Cornie’s eyes. Her stare had softened into satisfaction. She quietly began to pack. Before leaving the way she came in, she paused beside me and I thought I saw a smile escape the corner of her lips.

She left without shutting the door behind her. She will return. She always does. But Cornie and I are starting to have an understanding.