Nov 2019
They say the first stage of grief is denial. Then comes anger. Then bargaining, depression, and acceptance. During these times, your brain can’t seem to come to an accord. These components make me feel miserable. The transition between each isn’t much better. It’s a difficult concept to understand, but after a while the pieces all come together and you finally understand.
April 16, 2016
Saturday, April 16th. He’s gone. He’s gone and there’s nothing that can bring him back. He’s gone and there’s nothing that can bring him back.
Fast forward.
April 18, 2016
Monday, April 18th. A serene energy flows through my therapist’s office. I assume she had called me up here to address my various everyday antics, but I got the least expected. She pulls out her phone for an emergency phone call. Something bad has clearly happened. My heart beat slowly grows faster and faster. I eye her carefully as she calls my grandpa’s number. It begins to ring.
What happened?
It’s Cullen, I am told. No. It can’t be. They’re lying. This couldn’t have happened; he didn’t deserve it. The main question on my mind:
Why?
It’s hard to keep my thoughts benign at this point. To be frank, I want to deface the skin on my wrists. I want to scream, to cry. Anything to have him back. Nothing I think is rational. It’s like an infinite sadness is taking over. I just lost you. I miss you already.
Rewind.
December 25th, 2014
Thursday, December 25th, 2014. Play dough race car tracks and tiny guitars. Purple dolphins and video games. Just a few of the things I remember from that cherished night. A night I would live over and over, just so I can see him again.
That nice was a bonanza of happiness.
Thursday, December 25th, 2014. The last time I saw him.
Rewind
Georgia.
Climbing waterfalls, catching tadpoles. The precious moments of my childhood spent with you. I wish for every moment of it back.
I remember catching tadpoles. We got little butterfly nets, and would go hiking and occasionally dip them in little ponds we came across. I remember the little bullfrog tadpole I caught, one with its legs fully grown, bigger than all the other ones.
I could sit here and shout memories at you, but that would take up far too much space.
Fast forward.
I’m angry. I miss him, and I’m angry at the world for letting him go. My feelings become a burden on my shoulders, only to be let out on the people that I loved most. Truth be told, I was scared I’d lose them too. I would do anything to have him back.
Sadness begins to overcome me. I missed the funeral. My only chance to truly say goodbye. I hope you’re okay, wherever you are. And please, don’t forget…
I love you, Cullen, big much.
April 16, 2016
Saturday, April 16th. He’s gone. He’s gone and there’s nothing that can bring him back. He’s gone and there’s nothing that can bring him back.
Fast forward.
April 18, 2016
Monday, April 18th. A serene energy flows through my therapist’s office. I assume she had called me up here to address my various everyday antics, but I got the least expected. She pulls out her phone for an emergency phone call. Something bad has clearly happened. My heart beat slowly grows faster and faster. I eye her carefully as she calls my grandpa’s number. It begins to ring.
What happened?
It’s Cullen, I am told. No. It can’t be. They’re lying. This couldn’t have happened; he didn’t deserve it. The main question on my mind:
Why?
It’s hard to keep my thoughts benign at this point. To be frank, I want to deface the skin on my wrists. I want to scream, to cry. Anything to have him back. Nothing I think is rational. It’s like an infinite sadness is taking over. I just lost you. I miss you already.
Rewind.
December 25th, 2014
Thursday, December 25th, 2014. Play dough race car tracks and tiny guitars. Purple dolphins and video games. Just a few of the things I remember from that cherished night. A night I would live over and over, just so I can see him again.
That nice was a bonanza of happiness.
Thursday, December 25th, 2014. The last time I saw him.
Rewind
Georgia.
Climbing waterfalls, catching tadpoles. The precious moments of my childhood spent with you. I wish for every moment of it back.
I remember catching tadpoles. We got little butterfly nets, and would go hiking and occasionally dip them in little ponds we came across. I remember the little bullfrog tadpole I caught, one with its legs fully grown, bigger than all the other ones.
I could sit here and shout memories at you, but that would take up far too much space.
Fast forward.
I’m angry. I miss him, and I’m angry at the world for letting him go. My feelings become a burden on my shoulders, only to be let out on the people that I loved most. Truth be told, I was scared I’d lose them too. I would do anything to have him back.
Sadness begins to overcome me. I missed the funeral. My only chance to truly say goodbye. I hope you’re okay, wherever you are. And please, don’t forget…
I love you, Cullen, big much.
