The last thing I remember you telling me was to always be positive. I don’t know if it’s true or if it’s a figment of my imagination, but what I know is that you're the one who taught me what the word “optimistic” means.
Ever since you and dad died, I’ve held on to that word and I have tried my level best to live an optimistic life. I try to find the positive in every situation, even when it feels evident that there was nothing to be positive about.
When I write about my grief, my heart and mind take me on a journey of emotions and thoughts, and somehow the journey almost always ends with something that is somewhat positive. Almost...
But sometimes there is no "positive". Sometimes all I want to do is cry. I lay in bed, in the dark, as the world around me sleeps, and I cry every tear my body is able to produce. I cry so hard that I can’t breathe, my eyes begin to burn and my chest begins to feel tighter and tighter. “I need you mummy. I need you daddy. Come back to me”. By some miracle, my body manages to fall asleep while my heart continues to hurt...
When morning comes I wake up with a throbbing headache, swollen eyes and a tired mind. And do you know what happens after that? Absolutely nothing. You don’t come back and dad doesn’t come back. I just pick up with my life where I left off.
Those nights come and go. Sometimes grief really brings me to my knees. Sometimes there is just no "positive".