The Void That Is Grief
It’s been a year and seven months since Ayodele died, but I’m still going through life as if he died last month. I can’t move past the fact that my soulmate and the love of my life is no more. People say with time you gradually stop grieving your loved one, but my grief is still as raw and visceral as the day I saw his eyes shut forever while lying on the hospital bed as if he was just taking a nap.
My family and friends are tired of me. They are tired of sudden outbursts. My friends now avoid my company because no one wants to be around someone who stops a random stranger because her dead not exactly boyfriend had the same shirt the stranger is wearing. No one wants to keep having conversations with someone that chips in the name of a dead guy at every given chance.
My parents don’t talk much to me anymore, they avoid my eyes and only say what is necessary. At work, I have been stuck in one position for the past year which is unlike me because I always got promoted once a year and rewarded with fat commissions at least twice a year. My work buddies go for lunch and hangouts without me. They all don’t understand. They could never understand even if they tried to.
They did not know how much impact Ayodele had in my life, still has. He was not just my friend, he was my soulmate and the utmost love of my life. How do I explain to everyone that when he died, my heart died along with him. When his body was lowered into the ground, along with it went all the light in my life. How do I begin to explain to everyone that every moment of everyday I live in constant regret because of all the things I had wanted to say to him but didn’t say.
Whenever he said "I love you", his eyes would crinkle at the sides and I would burst into laughter. I never told him I loved him too, not because I didn’t, oh I did. I loved that man with everything I had in me, I still do. He was an open book, he said everything the way it was in his mind. I on the other hand, all my emotions were always guarded.
Even after we had both transcended the friendship level and became something more, I never defined what we had. I was afraid and I told him I didn’t want to commit. Being the magnanimous human that he was, he had agreed. I wished I told him how he was the first and only person that made me feel all sorts of emotions I thought I would never feel. I wanted to tell him that even if all else in his life were falling apart, I would be his safe haven. I wanted to tell him how he rocked my world. I just wanted to tell him that I loved him too, more than he could ever imagine. I didn’t and now he’s gone forever.
I listen to all the songs we used to listen to together every now and then. I rewatch all the movies we watched together dead into the night till my head is heavy and my eyes are glazed over with tears. Did I mention that I hear his low, rumbling voice in my head? And I remember vividly the curve of his lips when a smile is playing on his lips. I have conversations with him in my head as if he is sitting right beside me. Sometimes I dial his number and just talk pretending he is on the other end of the call listening.
These days I think I’m beginning to forget some of his features. Whenever that happens, a wave of panic hits me and I quickly pull up a picture of him on my phone and try to memorize everything again.
My parents have given me an ultimatum. They have asked me, no, ordered me to see a therapist. For once, in a long time I am going to listen to them. Because I have questions, I need to explain to someone how big of void my life is, since death took my Ayodele from me.
Does it get better? Will I eventually move past this grief that is now a dark cloud over my head. These are what I want the shrink to answer.