Loss - Tumblr Posts

Daily draw #125

I’ve suffered a recent loss of motivation and I’ll try to post something better tomorrow.

i am not sorry for this

reblog to share a plate of delicious waffles with your followers :D

Dear you, I miss talking to you every single day just like we used to. I almost feel sorry for not telling you how much I love you; almost because I am afraid that had you known my deep feelings then you, too, would have left me. But look at you, you are gone nonetheless. Love you always, me ~ I miss you (letter 1)

Dear you,

I finally knocked you today after 8 days of utter silence from both the ends, not that you noticed. 8 days seemed a lot. I had to talk to you. And so I knocked about a writing that felt too familiar. You said you have never seen it before. I thought you did. Anyway nvm. That’s all you do. You never mind.

Love you always, me

~ I miss you (letter 2)

Dear you,

I thought I wouldn’t write this but here goes. I didn’t want to admit it and so I didn’t write about this in my last letter to you. But I have to admit it. I really do miss you a lot. It’s just that I have been talking about you in my dreams. I never see you but I mention your name repeatedly to the 3 people I talk to all the time. I missed you. I think in one of my dreams, I think, I, I kissed you. Just a kiss on your lips. I thought you should know.

Love you always, me

~ I miss you (letter 3)

Dear you, You were the only one who understood my silence, my screams, my insanity, my entity. Why did you have to leave too? Love you always, me ~ I miss you (letter 4)

Dear you, I wrote this for you. Love you always, me ~ I miss you (letter 5)

What happened in that room

It wasn't pitch black when I suddenly opened my eyes. I had expected darkness; utterly pure darkness engulfing me and suffocating me with the intensity of its denseness. However, it wasn't dense like I expected. I was breathing freely. It wasn't anything like I expected even though I didn't know what to expect of it. I didn't have time to process anything that happened because it happened so quickly. The impact was too great.

When the body hits a solid surface with a great force, usually the head and the lungs collapse under pressure. The major bones crack, the arteries burst and the heart stops beating. The person often feels nothing as everything happens all too quickly at times. The body feels no rush as it stops functioning while multiple organs fail due to the lack of oxygen. The body experiences something called a trauma.

I don't fully remember the events that lead me to this place. I remember driving to work. I remember that I was excited about the presentation I had prepared for my boss. I remember pressing the horn a couple of times because the car in front of mine was going at 40mph instead of 60mph like the street sign showed. And lastly, I remember a loud noise, almost deafening and strong enough to throw me off balance. Right after that I woke up in this room; this queer looking room filled with an emptiness, devoid of anything else but me.

Now when i tell you i f**kin' BAWLED - 💔😭

**2K quality on YT**

i had a dream i took a covid test and the result was loss

They would have been eighteen today.

It's weird how,

when we grieved the same person,

I grieved in stages,

bewildered,

and chaotic

But you grieved tidy,

slow and steady

And so,

Though we grieved the same person

I grieved alone

And you grieved away

So we grieved, at the same time, but past each other.

Because of hard reasons, my husband wasn't able to be at his father's bedside at the end. His siblings put him on the phone and he sang ("Mighty Quinn" because it was all he could think of) to his father. His father passed away as he sang. I've always thought that it was the most beautiful way to pass.

my father said to me once that one of the things he deeply regretted was not putting music on for his father while he was fading away. he told me that grandpa would just sit in his old armchair in the quiet, and not until after he’d passed did my dad think of how he could have played of his favorite classical music tapes for him so grandpa could listen to something while he still could. i was very young when this happened and not much older when my dad told me this, but it always stuck with me as something important.

my mother died at home in a hospice cot, slowly shutting down over the course of about a week. when she had stopped responding, i remembered what dad told me about wishing he’d played music for grandpa, and i put the radio on her favorite country music station and kept it on for her until she died.

daddy died in hospital. no cassette players, no decent radios. the day after he was brought in, i thought again of what he told me, and i bought a little portable bluetooth speaker. even though he never woke up, was never aware, i played music for him too.

there’s no real significance to sharing this, not really. my motivation is selfish, again: i just want to hope that someone might think of this when their loved one is stuck in silence somehow, and maybe they’ll play music for them, and they won’t have to regret not doing so. i want to hope it helps someone. and i want to hope that someone will remember my dad with me, even in just a “story i read on the internet” way.

The end of August

Archive [?] | copyright to saturnfairycat

Author's note: 'But I can see us lost in the memory August slipped away into a moment in time 'Cause it was never mine' - Taylor Swift --- I think we hyped up the song too much, it became a reality. Anyway, this month has been CRAZY for me. So many things happened. From new people, new experiences and memories, closer connections, loss of connections, drama, pain, challenges... it has been a thrilling fall of events. --- 'Wanting was enough For me, it was enough To live for the hope of it all' - Taylor Swift

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The End of August

~~~

August.

What a hell of a ride.

My most forgetful month, turned into one of the heaviest footprints in the snow.

So many emotions, so many stains on my white dress that I will never be able to wash out.

I am losing my childhood, I'm losing the fresh feeling of being a teenager.

At the end of August, I lost parts of me that I thought I would carry till it is lost in the back of my cluttered room of a mind. I lost parts of my safety net, how do I find the courage to fall now?

I can smell the old air, clinging onto my neck in desperation. My old perfume stuck to my uniform, my bushy hair swaying in the wind. Our glances, our secret lives, our moments that I know we will never spend in person.

My heart sank when I came to the realisation. This is it. The official start of my new life. My delusion mocks my misery at keeping everything at bay. Everybody is starting to move on, but I am still stuck in moments of everyone together that never happened.

The world is a shifting sand storm, a castle that needs restructuring. You cannot start a new life without the floor crumbling down beneath your feet first, how else are you supposed to start from the bottom and make your way to the top?

But my feet is sinking into the sand, it is hard to climb out and reach for the stars from here. I can only glance up and see you glancing at me.

So many unfinished words. So many bittersweet thoughts.

I have accepted, and I do not feel regret. But I ponder about what it would have been like if I did not leap without blowing kisses goodbye. I never left like goodbye, because I never said it to your face. Always thought it would be "see you soon", but I am left hanging as your castle had already crumbled.

I'm happy for you.

But you can't see my smile from the sidelines.

I can see your face from here, though. I saw it— that glance. You're clinging onto my old perfume, you don't even want to know what my new usual smells like. You're still pondering about the promised moments, I hope you can get a reflection elsewhere…. and it isn't my face that smiles back at you.

I'm happy for you.

You are my bittersweet acceptance, the final note of a violin symphony.

I only wish I was in your end credits, not the acknowledgements.

But I am happy,

…

Really.

You are my August, the reason for an unforgettable month.

I lost a good friend and a sister. Here we are in happier moments. Tough loss. Her husband and her lived in Mary Pickford’s Hollywood cottage.

I told her that every time Leon Russell’s music plays I’ll think of her just before she passed. . 💔

caretaking and grief (i’m the victim, i’m the saint)

jumpy jittery like i have really bad anxiety, shaking and feeling weak like i have low blood sugar. i’m drinking milk tea, 268 calories. what a specific number. 55g carbs. can’t imagine i have low blood sugar. but maybe its something else, like the first three drags off a cigarette, the first three i’ve had in a few days. i’m not supposed to smoke on these meds, i wonder what high blood pressure feels like. i just wanna go for a walk and feel stupid dizzy, stupid head spins. but i’ve got to go to class. my lips bleed when i speak, they’re so chapped. and my kidneys are in agony, i don’t remember the last time i had more than a sip of water (just to down my pills).

but maybe its something else completely.

i woke up this morning to a winter wonderland snow globe scene outside my window. there’s a tv in front of my bed now. new old clothes in my closet. i will not remember how they got here until a few hours later. and my mother walks in, asks where the usb is. i will not remember why she needs it until a few hours later. she goes into her office, and i turn on this new old tv. i’m still figuring out how to connect my phone, or what i should even watch. but my mother comes back in with tears in her eyes and asks me to test the usb. i will not remember what i am supposed to be testing until few hours later. the snow isn’t letting up so i better get going. roads are slick, car is light, car starts slipping, i slow down. i make it to campus without crashing. i’m frigid on .4 of my walk, i cut through a building, make it to class. i’m so distracted, i barely take notes.

i walk down three flights of stairs. take a right, out the back door. my legs feel shaky, like i may buckle and fall down, down, down, two blocks until my next building, where i climb up another three flights of stairs. it's bright white in here, probably painted within the past year. the stairwell reeks of fresh paint. at the top of these stairs is a waiting room. no one hardly comes up here.  there’s three massive paned windows, and there’s my beautiful snow globe scene. its the shitty type of scene my grandmother would take a picture of and cherish. i start to grab my phone to send her a picture,

and my body goes cold.

she’s dead, remember?

its only been a few days and i’ve been,,,,, i’ve been gone. i don’t think i’ve had a single thought in my head since wednesday after 10:45am. and i’ve been running nonstop. i listened to you screaming for the last eight hours of your life. and i never got to say goodbye. i don’t think i ever would have. i would always tell you, “i’ll see you when i’m back tomorrow,” but this time there was no tomorrow. you were still breathing fine when i left you. sure it was slow, almost erratic, and in so much pain. i remember the last time i hugged you. you weren’t speaking anymore, but you had enough in you to gently squeeze me when i reached down to hug you. and the last thing you told me was that you loved me, but that was far before you hugged me. i miss you already. today i snapped a picture of that window scene and texted it to you, knowing fully well my mother had your phone. and i started to cry. people saw me, i know they did, but they must understand. everyone’s dealt with death. and if they haven't, they will. my god, i miss you already. god is a little bastard, the universe know exactly what it was doing to spark this chain reaction of events that ended in bittersweet memories of seventeenths and weekend trips to a clinical spare bedroom. its only been four days, is your body even cold yet? i’ve been told you don’t even look like you in the casket. they say you look good but its nothing like you. i want to see you again but i guess all we get is body that once possessed you. i wish this, i wish that.

today i watched them open the casket to reveal your deflated hands, sunken in eyes, skin i could (pull just like clay). gums sewn shut. body drained and pumped with chemicals. your once yellow skin turned “normal,” i don’t want to look, this isn’t you. i don't want your face in my memories to replaced with this lifeless thing in a rented casket. i don’t remember other bodies looking as dead as yours did. but now you’re being incinerated in some oven, mixing ashes with remnants of someone else’s loved ones and past pets. today it maybe started to feel final. it came over me for a second or two, tears started to well up, but the antidepressants kicked in and worked their magic. i don’t feel real, i don’t feel like this is really me. not really you.

i was never going to say goodbye. i expected you to live forever, that was the expectation everyone had in mind. and no one had time to grieve. there’s a difference between watching someone die over the course of six weeks, and watching someone slowly lose themselves over the course of twelve years. three years on hospice. my name is cathy, my name is ann, my name was everyone but who i am. i have four dogs in a world i do not live in. we’re at the park in a bedroom. there’s these really good orange towels in the laundry room. and now her apartment is collecting dust while we wait for the heartlessness of a judge to hear us out. like their first day on earth has never happened, yet they have eight years of law school programmed into their tiny little baby brains. but besides the point, i miss you but i don’t know if this is really happening or not. and it doesn’t hurt until i’m alone, or with people. so it really all hurt but doesn’t hurt. and no one knew what to expect.

today i watched them put your rented casket in a silver hearse. bells ring. it snows. i notice its a cadillac, with a leather exterior. where does one find things like this? and what happens if a hearse crashes into an ambulance? and what if they all die? what’s then? i try not to think of all things that could possibly go wrong, ever. the bells switch from the hourly tune, to background noise to send her off. who thinks of these things, and who controls it? the funeral director smiles and tells us to go inside, enjoy the catered meal my family put together and payed for.

none of this feels right, none of this feels real, but i doubt it ever will, unless i am in the industry of loss.

I first heard of "the game" back in high school and I honestly always forget it's a thing until something like this shows up, heh

This is the worst thing I’ve ever made. It will get 2 or 3 notes at most, but in my heart, I’ve unleashed it on the world.