everythingtaylored - Tumblr blog

everythingtaylored · 3 years

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It’s difficult to write about someone you love.

Every ink spent.

Every stroke made.

You bleed the words you could never say in person.

To people.

To the one you love.

Your fear is centered on every letter pouring out of you.

THAT fear becomes a trigger.

It breaks you.

It changes you.

It could end the life you once knew.

And all of a sudden, it’s more frightful writing about someone you love than jumping off a cliff.

At least jumping off a cliff is quick and painless.

Writing this was difficult.

I don’t know if I can ever write again.

If I can ever sing, or dance, or act, or host the same way ever again.

I don’t know how I will be able to do the things I love again without one of the people who mean so much to me.

You can’t light a fire without a matchstick.

You can only do so little with a burning heart of which its wick is running out.

You’d think death would be familiar territory for me what with the loss of family members and losing patients on the floor.

But it gets worse every single time.

You will never feel the familiarity of death.

It will always be that old acquaintance you never want to hang out with.

This one is different from the ones I’ve experienced.

The way we lost her was painful.

She was all alone.

Without us knowing what happened to her.

Without her knowing that we were praying for her.

The funeral this time is different.

There’s no wake this time.

No burial.

But how come it’s even harder this time?

I lost a piece of my soul I know I’m never getting back.

I’ve lost pieces all throughout my life.

I found some.

I bought new ones to replace the ones I lost.

But this time, I can’t get it back again.

I can’t find a new one to replace that part I lost.

I lost my faith in Him, and I don’t know when I’m gonna get it back.

When I’m getting it back.

When I’m gonna start trying to get it back.

All I know is I had it when my sister was still alive.

When I was begging so hard to spare for her life in my bedroom facing the blue curtains of my window.

I had it when my sister told me the news that my other sister — my sweet, innocent, kind sister — was brought to the ICU.

And I had it when the doctor finally told us they did everything they could.

She fought for a life she deserved.

You may judge me.

You may form every opinion you have of me of my faith.

Or lack thereof.

Or what I believe in now.

But I know that having faith needs to be earned.

It needs to be worked on.

So if I’m gonna believe in Him again, I need to have a reason.

A similar reason why I lost my faith in the first place.

What’s the point of being a nurse who has seen the worst patient cases, the worst patient circumstances, when you can’t even be a nurse to your own sister?

To your own family?

Why put us up to anything only to be powerless in the end?

Tell me, am I supposed to find meaning in this?

Because I can’t.

I refuse to comfort myself with the thought that everything has a reason.

That’s twisted.

Because I don’t see any reason of taking someone’s life just to learn a damn lesson.

I refuse to comfort myself with the thought of surrendering my life and will to just fate and chance.

How are you supposed to find meaning in that?

And don’t tell me that the reason will reveal itself in time, because from what I’ve learned, time is never on our side.

If and when that does happen, it’s gonna be too late.

I refuse to just let what happened to my sister be THAT.

A means to an end.

For those who don’t believe in COVID. In the virus.

In what’s happening right now.

For those who don’t believe in vaccinations.

Or for those who think vaccinations actually do more harm than good.

I’m fine with you believing in that.

Just make sure you try not to live or destroy your life with people who believe otherwise.

Because you are a fool for just breathing right now.

You don’t deserve the life you have right now.

And for the other people, don’t let your loved ones go through what we went through.

If you ask me, there are already too many holes being made from the ground.

I have sent so many people to the IGNORE list because I don’t know how to respond to them.

I feel the need to reply because that’s probably the old me wanting to find order in this confusing world.

So don’t take offense if I didn’t reply, because I, too, have so many questions right now, and I still don’t know who’s going to be answering them for me.

I know Kristine didn’t want this for me.

I also know that I also didn’t want what happened to her to happen to her.

But it did.

And now I’m left with a missing piece.

A part of my soul I can never get back.

Might never get back.

A lot of people have been asking how I’ve been doing.

How I’m coping.

How I’ve been holding up.

I don’t know what to tell you.

My family told me I don’t owe anyone any explanation.

But I owe it to myself to at least care for those who showed love during one of our most difficult times.

And this is what I have to say.

If you DO see me, DON’T ASK ME HOW I’M DOING OR GETTING BY.

Just know that I’m not. I’m not okay.

I’m not fine.

DO NOT ASK ME WHAT HAPPENED.

Because until now, I have no answer to that.

DO NOT PITY ME.

I just need you to understand me.

DO NOT HUG ME OR TOUCH ME.

Just be there for me.

And not say anything.

That’s enough.

More than I could ask for.

They say we have different ways of coping.

THIS is how I’m coping.

THIS is what I’m choosing.

Because it’s the best option I see right now.

It makes things hurt… less.

I’ve promised not to destroy myself.

Because what else is there left to destroy?

What else is there to scavenge?

But I am digging a hole.

And I might not be getting out any time soon.

Don’t worry.

I’ll manage.

In this hole I built.

It’s warm but dark.

It’s not home but it will do.

Allow me to paint myself in grey.

Because blue wasn’t enough to feel the sadness.

To feel the pain.

To feel the anger.

And the frustration.

I used to see blue.

Now I see grey.

It’s not a new day.

It’s not starting over.

It’s gonna be the same life.

Same old days with the same traumatic memories.

And we’re gonna take it one day at a time.

One day.

At a time.

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