Grief is like the dampness that seeps through old walls. It spreads through your soul and marks all your memories, wet.
It is like a rain. Gentle and insistent, furious torrents, Comforting, encompassing, sporadic and unpredictable. You never know when it hits you, how it catches you and how you’d react.
Grief is volatile. It evolves, submerges, revolves and emerges. And then sometimes you forget.
And when you forget, the remembrance is altogether too painful.
The other day I thought of you. I looked at the cloying face of the stray cat, hoping for a piece of food and teared up.
Such is the randomness of grief. I never cried in your funeral. I faked it.
Such is the fickleness of grief.
I still feel guilty of the irrepressible smile. Fourteen years afterwards.
And now , I can’t recollect your face but I remember that moment and I still grieve like it was yesterday.
Grief is quite mysterious. It shows its ugly head in various forms. Guilt. Envy. Jealousy. Wistfulness. Regret.
For me, they are all forms of grief.
I grieve for you in various ways. Sometimes I grieve by forgetting at others by remembering.