I was going through my archives and I realized that, without necessarily meaning to when I started this blog, a recurring topic seems to have emerged.
I write about dead people.
I don’t want to be the person who can’t move on from losing his mother, father and one sister. But, at the same time, I don’t know how I can separate the loss from the person that I am.
Every experience is somehow diminished by the knowledge that it can no longer be shared with them. Christmas and special occasions are specially difficult.
Reliving the memories is often a source of comfort and inspiration. Sometimes the memories cause pain so sharp it's almost physical. But, as in life, you can't take one without the rest.
I know that I can share new experiences with the people who are still present it in my life. And I do. I have a close circle of family and friends who are my life-savers.
I know that I should go ahead and create new memories. And I do try. That's what they would have wanted. More importantly - that's what I want for myself. There is so much left to do and try and taste and see.
But the fact remains – they’re gone. And I miss them. And I don’t want to relegate their presence in my life to the past.
I write about them because this is a way to keep their memories alive. I write about them because I want people to know that they lived, that their existence mattered.
I write about them because their influence in still very much apparent in how I now live my life.
I write about them because I know I write well. And I want to use that gift to honor them.
That's the way it is.
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I agree Tarcs, writing about dead people, or in our case, our loved ones who have gone before us, is one way of honoring them for the love they have let us experienced when they were still alive. The fact that we miss them and that we are fond of talking about them and reliving the experience of still having them in our lives only show that they have indeed created an impact in our lives. You are not alone. hehehehe In my case, whenever I feel confused, lonely, miserable or whenever i feel like I just want to feel consolation, I just visit my dad's crypt and talk to him there. After that, there is a certain sense of consolation that I feel. Like someone has prayed for me.
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