Tomorrow will be the anniversary of Omar’s death. The day that would change my life, without me knowing til the following morning. It’ll be three years, since I wish I could’ve done more or done something different. Three years, that led to the start of a type of pain that I hoped to never know. Three years later, and not much has changed.
Three years later, and somehow I’m still alive. I’ve managed to survive the worst pain I’d ever know. Somehow I’m still here.
I made it through the endless, gloomy days. I survived living day to day as a zombie. I continue to live with the pain that is engrained into my heart, my body, and mind.
The sadness is always there. The sadness never leaves. I carry it with me, just as I carry a purse.
I can always count on my sadness to be there, to take over me, as soon as a memory is triggered. As soon as I come across stimuli that has been paired with despair.
My life isn’t soo bad. I’ve been very fortunate to survive the rabbit hole that my grief has sent me down. Im fortunate to continue to live everyday. Even as I live with my sorrows. I’m thankful to be living a life that I’ve been forced to forage. The life that I never wanted.
Everyday I am grateful for the love, and the care that Omar showed me. I’m so thankful for having known him. He’s not physically here, but I know his presence has been with me. Guiding me, protecting me, and teaching me lessons (even if they’re learnt the hard way).
Tonight, and tomorrow, and the next day, I honor him. I honor Omar. His life, his strength, his perseverance. Everything that he was, and everything that I want to be.
I carry him with me always. The love I have for him never goes. Another year has come, and another year will go. I will keep him with me, until I depart.
I miss you always Omar. I wish you were here.