My Grief Finds An Exit

My Grief Finds An Exit
I felt like hiding my face in her lap and weeping like a child. I wasn’t feeling very  low nor was there about anything to be ashamed of, but a typical catharsis was effected whenever I had done this in the past; there has been a strange kind of relief experienced whenever I had done this.  Literally, I was a child. I like to behave like a child whenever I was with her. there wasn’t a reason for me not to do this.

She took care of me like I was her child, a grown-up one, that is, and I loved her for this. I yearned for the selfless love of my mother, and she gave me the love, care and attention I wanted. The moments I spent with her were some of the most beautiful moments of my life. I was on the way to completing the practicality of being a child when I was contemplating on sinking my face into her lap.

Blood flowed at a rapid pace through my chest at that moment, and my chest suddenly became the hub of all kinds of emotions in the world. My heart always thumped wildly with emotions while she was before me, and I seriously thought of bringing out my heat’s contents before her at that moment. My heart had very little except her name  written on all its walls and chambers, I haven’t known any other name for a long time. She is the only one in my heart and she is the only one in my conscious world too: she was sitting before me like a queen on the couch at that moment. There was a lot of grief collected in my heart. It had to be brought out, and the time for their exit had come, I felt sure.

It was a typical situation where I didn’t need a spade or even a shovel to bring out my heart’s contents. They were already on their way to the outer world when I felt an impulse to preserve them in the format they were in, but the very next moment, I realised the futility of harbouring such ambitions. The flow of grief through my being and its exit in the form of tears was a spontaneous action and I soon felt better with at least some of my grief out of my being.

I have come to realise that it is always best to bring out one’s grief in whatever format it comes out and whenever it can be taken out. If let to collect within oneself, like it has within me, it is going to creates such a ruckus that it cannot be taken out using ordinary spades or shovels. There is no  way I can bring out all the grief collected within me over the years of my being except by crying. There was a lot of grief collected within me, and it was going to take a long time for all of it to come out in the format I wanted it to. It was going to be a slow process, but I wasn’t in a hurry to let out my grief. I wept for a long time.

There were a lot of tears on their way to the outer world while she was with me that day. She was going to be the soak-pit for all grief collected within me over all the years of my existence. There can be some disastrous consequences of I letting grief accumulate within me. I don’t think there is a way I can collect any of my tears in any form. Shedding them was almost a matter of life and death for me. They are to be absorbed by the fabric of the cloth she was wearing that day and they were to  evaporate in the air in a while.

They won’t leave behind any mark on me except for some sediments of salt on my cheeks, and they too are to be washed away when I use soap and water to clean my face. The only remnants that are to remain of the session are to be preserved in the form of deposits of salty tears on her dress. They are also to be washed away when the fabric is washed. Everything is to be washed and purged in a manner, except for the tons of grief that has deposited itself and hardened itself into rocks within me. I badly wish there was a way I can melt the rocks with the heat of lava flowing through me, but the tears on their way out of me were already working no making me feel good.

Life had not been easy for me; at least this is what I feel about myself. I feel this a bit more strongly than anyone else because my experiences with life haven’t been very good. Everyone has had their share of trials and tribulations, and I feel they have been extended a bit too long in my case. This can be a part of seeing a yellow world when one has an infection of jaundice. I think everyone is suffering only because I feel I have been suffering. I strongly feel everyone is unhappy, because I myself am unhappy. Finally, at the end of the day, the only person suffering in the world is me.

The world around me assumed a brighter texture and colour in a while when I shed some tears. I felt quite light and a lot better in a while. There were some marks on the mosaic floor of the room we were in of some drops of tears that had fallen down; they are big blobs on the floor.

I hope they too fade into ignominy soon.