grief

What I know about grief so far…

It has been one month since my aunt died unexpectedly at the age of 50. At the beginning, while I was still overseas, my brain could not stop narrating as it happened. I needed to write and share and process. I figured this would fast-track my grieving process so I could come out triumphant on… Continue reading What I know about grief so far…

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Word vomit

The bureaucracy of dying.

The couch is covered with a decade's worth of papers, as we sift through trying to make meaning of it all. Birth certificate. Life insurance. Bank statements. Utility bills. Vacation cancellation policies. Paystubs. Marriage license. Pensions. Cellphone contracts. Drivers licenses.  Rent invoices. Passports. Property taxes. Receipts. Immigration papers. Death certificate. It all feels so horribly… Continue reading The bureaucracy of dying.

grief

Vim tears.

Mr. J's voice provides me with momentary relief each night during our scheduled call - a promise of  a sense of normalcy after I wake up from this nightmare. My heart pangs for our home and our happy and simple life; free of any legitimate concerns. I feel guilty clutching onto this solace, with none… Continue reading Vim tears.

Word vomit

Grief (cont’d).

There is nothing more unsettling than watching my mother fall apart, realizing my own ineptness at comforting her. Every night, I hold her sobbing body in my dead aunt's bed, while we take turns telling stories, desperately hanging onto the memories I already feel slipping away. I only pull up my aunt's voice in my… Continue reading Grief (cont’d).

Word vomit

Jubilee garden.

If I stretch my arms out far enough I can graze the edges of my grief with my fingertips, pushing it away to make room for my mother's grief, which she is unable to hold back as it crashes against her relentlessly. Nothing will ever be the same again. I stumble through the hospital corridors… Continue reading Jubilee garden.

Word vomit

The train of doom.

All the bad days of my life combined don't come close to this living hell. I stare begrudgingly at the carefree couple sitting across from me on the train, clearly on their way to somewhere filled with laughter and friends and ice-cream that trickles down their hands as the sun shines down on them on… Continue reading The train of doom.

Word vomit

Life interrupted.

I wince thinking back to last week, sitting in my solarium, clinking wine glasses with Mr. J, thinking to myself that life has never been this happy or good or fucking easy. Infinite possibilities stretched out before me; a safety net of love and support lay beneath me. I see my aunt's message come through… Continue reading Life interrupted.

Word vomit

Thank you, 2017!

I recently re-read my entire blog from start to finish. It was a mixed bag of emotions: I ebbed from laughing at some of my more self-deprecating posts to feeling sorry for my former self, as I grappled with the experience of my first (but not last) utter mindfuck of a heartbreak. On December 31,… Continue reading Thank you, 2017!

Word vomit

Goodbye, 2015.

I would like to gracefully depart 2015 with a note for anyone who has recently had their heart broken. Things probably seem pretty fucking shitty right now. You may still be struggling to dig yourself out of a mound of snotty Kleenex – or perhaps you're not even pretending to try. Or maybe you are… Continue reading Goodbye, 2015.

Word vomit

The perils of modern dating.

The last time I actively dated as an "adult" was when I was 19 – a time when anyone who dated online was still considered a social leper and my prefrontal cortex was still not yet fully developed. (Any day now, brain...any day.) Dating in your late 20s – after a decade of catapulting yourself… Continue reading The perils of modern dating.