Grief, Silence, and What I Couldn't Say
Grandpa used to say, "It's ok to cry if you're sad. But save your tears over what cannot be helped for it was already in motion."
Now he was the one who died. Grandpa was the one they took away. Yet somehow his last smile take away all of my brothers'?
How much I wanted to hold them and tell them, "They took Grandpa away— don't let them take you from me too."
Words unspoken in my chest. What would they think of me? Selfish? That this is about Grandpa and not make it about myself? Twisting grief into my own need? Desperately seeking attention? Spoilt just because I'm the youngest? Would they start fighting each other because some of them agree with me?
I could only stare ahead at Grandpa's coffin, my lips pressed shut, afraid of the storm that would play out if I were to say that.
There I go again with the silence. It was all I ever did whenever I was at a lost. It was all I ever knew.
Was going through a close call with a friend and ended up overplaying the situation in my head.
I usually read books in English, but occasionally in Chinese, and Japanese, which influences my writing style. Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami is one of the books that has heavily shaped the way I write, though I am nowhere near that level of mastery.
Now I'm curious to know what you would write...