I never know when the outburst will occur. When tears will start rushing down my face without any barriers to block them from my lips. The saltiness of my tears tantalizes my tongue and I am brought back to the moments I want to forget. This is what grief feels like: for a death, a loss, or a departure of some sort that was not warranted or desired.
Good-byes were always a wretched sound to me, even if their time was now and I should have met them yesterday. I craved for new beginnings, fresh starts, or just knowing that my mind and emotions would experience a new feeling that wasn’t so emotionally crippling was enough to make my self-conscious salivate. Accepting acceptance in the cycle of grief produced a new good-bye to which I could say hello. I did it- I finally reached acceptance.
It had been 3 years since I lost my mom and by now, some people are probably tired of me talking about it. Sometimes I’m tired of hearing myself talk about it, but this is my story. That chapter of my life was written on a whim and as the author of my own tale, that section of the book was a piece I never wanted to write nor expected to construe so early on in my memoir. Apparently, it had to be done though and it completely altered the following chapters and eventual ending of my own book.
On the third anniversary of her death, I accepted the absence of her presence. I accepted knowing the unknown, and not knowing the known. I accepted that my today will quickly be my tomorrow which will turn into my yesterday. It was a new phase, a fresh feeling that overcame my body before taking me to my next terminus on this ride that never ends. The tears were left behind at the last stop, but sometimes I longed for that salty reminder that I was still alive. Even though I moved forward to a new stage that would release me from a numbing pain, it was still another good-bye that crept its weary head on me and again, I didn’t know I was ready.
It was a destination I never thought I would reach after losing my mom. I experienced days that I didn’t taste the salt of my own tears, but I only heard my own laughter after conjuring memories of us. Sometimes I still feel an ache in my heart, but I’ve come up with my own remedies to handle sting. Three years later and the pain was still unbearable at times, but then one day, it happened- I accepted her physical absence, I accepted acceptance