I'm Broken
The natural instinct when being broken is taking a hide. There are several reasons for it, I guess. Either you don't want for others to see you vulnerable, or the pain drags you into darkness for it is there where it lives.
In my case, I have a very particular, yet not unique way of dealing with the pain of a broken heart. It seems that for me catching up with reality takes some time, but when I do I sink in the pain and hit rock bottom.
I still remember the day I was told my grandfather had passed away. I was in a cab with my sister. We were headed to the airport to take a flight to get the chance to see grandpa one last time before passing because we already knew by then that his passing was inevitable.
We received the news and my sister started crying unstoppably. I just couldn't believe it. I felt guilty for other reasons I'm not gonna talk about in this post. But, I felt guilty and blamed myself for not having another chance to see him.
This trip took another color. For me, it had become colorless, gray, and even dull. At times, I forgot why we were on that trip, and I even felt happy about coming back to the place I was born.
But, then... seeing my sister crying would make me remember why we were there and the latest news.
I arrived at his house and saw all my aunts and uncles. Some of my cousins were also there. Everybody went out to welcome us in tears... they hugged me trying to console me, but I had no pain to be consoled.
From that moment on everything went slo-mo, and I became an external agent, even from myself. I saw things as if I were watching them from a TV... as if I was looking at other people's lives.
We had been long hours on a flight, so we needed to take a shower. Once ready, I did feel pretty much like those moments when you get ready to go to a party. I felt like I was needed someplace else and it was urgent for me to get there.
When I got there, I meet with some other aunts. Luzma, one of my aunts, was starring in the coffin, sobbing and crying... she didn't even realize that I had gotten there... when she did, she told me "He's gone... he's left us".
I always was tight with my grandpa. Everybody knew that, even though he had many more grandchildren, there was a special bond between us two, perhaps because he also had a special bond with my mother. So, everybody was expecting me to put up a scene, which I didn't.
I got closer to the coffin and took a peek, but I didn't recognize him. I know it was him but he looked far from my memories. My aunt was standing next to me as if expecting my reaction, so I had to force a few tears to make everyone happy.
The mass took place, and I was sitting front row. I didn't feel comfortable. Whenever carrying out a catholic ceremony, it feels more about the church than the person for who the ceremony is being upheld.
I turned back and saw my uncles and aunts looking back at me... so I remained sitting.
When the moment of the burial came, I met with other cousins who also hugged me as saying "We know you must be devastated" as if it had been more of a loss to me than to them.
I stood a little far from the burial place. I looked everywhere... everybody was crying... even some neighbors, but I got nothing. One of my cousins was looking for me to pick up the shovel and throw the sand over the coffin as the last ceremony of togetherness between the old-man and me, but I said no.
We went back home, his home and I literally found nothing to do. I went to the beach... I walked the streets of the city, but I wasn't anywhere. I wasn't with my relatives in their pain, and I certainly wasn't there with me either. Where was I? I was wandering the land of the spirits... I was walking through the line of the oblivious... I was there where the living meets the dead... I was there where consciousness and awareness are emotionless... I was walking and floating at the same time.
A few days later, they wanted to perform a ceremony for my grandpa. It had been already a week. (A week!) time has passed by flying!
During the ceremony, I was sitting next to my mother and other relatives. We were talking about how things would change and whether it'd be motivating for us to come back other times now that he wasn't there. Then, I heard someone else who is not a relative said his name on a prayer... and at that moment reality hit me. I stopped floating and began to feel.
The pain was killing me, I knew that I would never see him again in this life and that I was gonna miss him a lot. That feeling mixed with feelings of guilty filled my heart and soon I started sinking. At that point, my relatives were still sad, but there were no tears, and that was the moment when mine started flowing.
Now, once again I feel broken... for totally different reasons, but broken. Tears haven't come out, but my soul can't stop weeping. I feel lost and broken... I feel I have to get out of bed and don't know why.
I can't trust my judgment on how to deal with this because it's self-destructive. I was trying to keep on moving as if nothing had happened, but today I know it did happen, and I can finally feel it; and once again, this feeling is mixed with other feelings I've had contained for quite some time now.
I feel broken and I can't fly for now. I see people walk past me but I can't walk because I feel broken.
I see others fly high and I wonder whatever have I done with my wings... now I can't fly because I am broken, but I haven't always been broken and I don't remember ever flying that high.
Now, I have to wait till I feel safe and sound again; and wait while enduring this whole in my chest, and pecking in my head.
I feel lost and I feel broken and that doesn't even describe how I'm feeling.
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