TwoCents | Death Makes sense when you are older

Loss always feel different when you are older. It becomes more clearer and the things that worried your mind when you lost your uncle at eleven and couldn't understand why your eyes would not bring forth her tears—-all of it makes sense now. The pain used to roll off your spine when you still had innocence in your belly. They told you he had died, the same man that bought you snacks, snuck it behind your grandmother’s back and made you laugh. You saw your mother whose eyes were dryer than sand, shake and weep so quietly. Even the clouds knew he had gone, they darkened and thunder clapped endlessly.  Your uncle is gone. The wind told you. He is no longer here.You knew it but it made no difference to you. You watched people scream, their voice rang through every corner of the room. It scared you because you had never heard them speak that way. You were raised in laughter. Their tears littered every corner of his new house and you tiptoed to avoid touching any surface because you didn't understand.He was no longer here but it made no difference to you. You tried to cry because you saw them do it. You had a little drink in your hand and it felt silly to enjoy it. So you went to the backyard to find a quiet spot and summon your own tears. You thought of your uncle, of everything he meant to you, the toys he bought, the laughter he brought..and everything else he meant to your family. But no matter how much you willed your eyes to perform, she was not yet trained to lie or pretend to feel when your heart was empty. Maybe you were sad. When you close your eyes through the passage of time, you remember that weird feeling nestled somewhere in your bones. It made you feel heavy and at random times at night, you looked at the spaces where he could have been and your tongue tasted bitter. It was probably sadness or the heavy weight of numbness. You couldn’t have known.Grief makes no sense when you are eleven and naive.At fifteen, it happened again. It was your grandmother’s mother. Your remember her fondly, you remember her agile spirit and the memories of your childhood that smelt sweetly of her spirit. The day she died, your heart was empty. You remember your uncle and the how hard you had worked to bring sadness to your eyes. So this time, you don’t bother. Perhaps there is something dead inside of you or you are just one of those who breaks into laughter randomly at a funeral, whose hands shake without reason and whose soul has lost its heart. You stare at her body on a Friday evening. It was dry and dark, your eyes twitch but as always, it makes no difference to you. She is no longer here. The wind tells you. You wait patiently for that thing to possess you, the one that made the others break the ground with their fist and water their feet with tears. You count the seconds in your head but it passes and you are still whole, empty and without soul.Grief makes no sense when you are fifteen and clueless.Through time, you count on your fingers the ones that death had taken with the day. They are not many, not the ones that might matter. Like always, it makes no difference to you.Then you turn older than twenty. Your eyes are no longer foggy. Your heart beats louder in your ears and you hear the tip toe of your soul as she nestle between your bones. Life is suddenly louder as if rushing to tell you all the truths it never did when you were eleven or fifteen. You will understand when you are older. No truer words have ever been spoken. You lose someone again, someone who mattered. The grief hits you so suddenly that you stagger and for days unend, you don’t know what to do with this person you have become. You try to shake her out of your skin but she has fierce teeth and a searing grip.You had known she was gone even before they told you. Your heart was heavy days before you read it like a stranger in a group chat. It was a Sunday evening and tears poured out your eyes as if to make up for all the years you stared at death with eyes drier than sand. You did not even give her permission. You read the news and before your mind could understand, you were bent over the phone, fingers shaking and eyes bleeding.Was this grief? What was this feeling? You wipe your eyes quickly because you do not understand. Why would your eyes spill secrets you have not asked her to. You force a laugh and squeeze your hands to stop them from shaking. This was the last time you cried. Maybe you should have let yourself do it. You tried to escape but how far could you run from pain.  Days after, your fingers shake as you stare pointlessly at a screen and try to tell the world how you feel. You whisper her name and your chest tightens. You scroll past when you see her pictures and block everyone who is wishing you condolences. Even now, you can’t type her name or write who she was to you. Even as you bleed your truth on these pages, you hold the grief right in your fist because if you let it go, you will tumble into darkness. You want to scream but your throat doesn’t work right as everything else that you own. When you see her face, smiling but still, your world stops because it makes it real and now you have you sit with the reminder that she no longer exists. She is gone. The wind tells you. She is no longer here.And this time, grief make sense when you are twenty four and your heart has learned the pain of loss.

Other insights from Esther Omemu