Accepting my Farewell

 

You never know when is it the last time you see someone. When life hits you with loss, you can never anticipate the damage it will bring to you.

It was a normal school day for me. Under the state of lockdown due to the ongoing outflow of Covid-19. I was sleeping as usual when I received a call from a friend. “Hello” I answered. He replied to me saying that one of our friends has committed suicide. Thinking of it as a prank I slept again. Minutes passed by when I received another call. My friends shouting at me calling me down my house. I went being mad for waking me up just for a stupid prank, but I felt my anguish converting to sorrow with a heightened sense of denial when I saw the faces of my friends. The thought of our friend’s demise flowing through all our minds and confusion across our faces. We decided on going to the friend’s house and meet his family where upon I experienced for the first time what it’s like to loose someone. I haven’t had the time and the space to talk to my friend for the past few days. Exam season was near and I was a kid who just had to score good. I was in a state of isolation avoiding myself from opportunities to meet and have fun with my friends.

I didn’t know what to expect at such a situation wherein you just don’t know what to say or do. I didn’t know if I should console my dead friend’s parents, ask what happened, just stay there, leave the place and give them space. It was all too much.

To each their own and everyone was back at their place in a while. I was still processing the extensive cognitive stimulus unleashed upon my unprepared brain. I don’t know why, but I kept laughing in shock. My parents woke up hearing me laugh, I told them what happened with tears in my eyes. They didn’t believe me and asked if everything was okay. There was a lot of tension for the next few days. Somehow anything I did, from talking about what happened to repressing my emotions seemed wrong. I didn’t know what to do and how to deal with such a situation. I am someone who hates it when others sympathise with me, it makes me feel inferior. I tried to hide it as much as possible from people. But the anxiety and stress of keeping it hidden was killing me from the inside. I could never talk to my parents about this. I don’t actually remember when or how it stopped hurting. What I do remember is that it took time. Time and a little resilience. The courage to bounce back right up when the opportunity unfolds itself. Yes, it could have been less hurting if I talked about this sooner. But, every individual needs their time and space to get ready and when they are, it is the most beautiful feeling of relaxation and relief.