Silent Sorrow

The family buried my cousin this weekend. Everything about the memorial was perfect. The location, the music, the headstone, the burial, the words spoken and even the ones not for I did not speak. All perfect.

I will be honest. I wasn’t there for the entire service. As a family friend led the memorial and Kisa played the music I tuned them out. I stood watching the mountainside in front of me and the hawks soar above me. I concentrated on the ants colonizing at my feet and the clouds crawling over my head. I heard the music as if underwater, the memorial as if in another room. I knew that if I paid attention I would hear my heart breaking all over again and that in doing so I would cry. Not the muted, polite tears of someone who is simply sad. My grief would be loud and sobbing; disgustingly messy and uncontrollable. It would seem disproportionate to the solemn sadness of the rest of the mourners. They, except for a sparse few, didn’t utter a sound either.

I stayed underwater until an aunt made me surface. Her quick hug took me by surprise. The service wasn’t over. She was seated with the mourners. I wasn’t. I stood offside, practically behind someone’s GMC truck. She had to dart from her seat to get to me. Her hug woke me up to pain, heartache, loss and I lost it.

I wasn’t asked to speak a few words about my cousin. For that, I am glad. Sort of. I have things to say. Not to those who survived him but to him; he who lost his life. Maybe I will write them here. My sorrow cannot stay silent.

Categories: Confessional, life | Tags: , , , , , , | Leave a comment

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