4 Stages of Grief

They say there are 4 stages of grief.

Denial

I remember your face. I hate it. I hate that every time I hear your name the picture of you in that

spacious wooden box reappears in my head. You were packaged like a doll with the itchy fabric

of a bow tie instead ofhow I know you.

Too tranquil to be the real you.

I should know you as the older brother who flung me across your broad shoulders as we sprinted

across the water park. I should know you as the one who ate ice cream with me; hiding from

mom’s patrol.

All of which happened Yesterday.

It really feels like Yesterday—a Yesterday where everything was just normal.

Nothing but normal.

Where you would sneak out to play basketball. Where mom would play Mahjong at her friend’s

house, her laughter swaying with the wind.

Where Dad would ride his motorcycle to attend to his never-ending obligations. The Yesterday

where I could cry without guilt if I wanted to.

It’s almost magical how much yet little can happen in a day.

How mortal time evaporates from the tip of my fingers,

so quickly,

so subtle,

almost invisible.

Anger

Liar.

You told me you weren’t hungry as you shoved the plate towards me. All of what was left were

the sugar-filled dumplings mom only made one of in each batch. A translucent embedded sugar

rush.

Whoever eats this special dumpling is designated to have a bright beginning for the new year.

You passed on that luck to me when you clearly needed it most.

You told me you liked being bald. You lie. Remember the hair you refused to cut for an entire

year?

You told me you enjoyed the meager chatter. You lie. Remember when you used to introduce me

to all your friends as I held your hand at waist height?

You said you couldn’t feel the needles in your spine as your fist clenched so hard I saw the

prevalence of purple contagiously condensed into your skin.

You lied to me.

You told me everything was great. You told me you were going to come to my graduation.

Maybe I’m just selfish.

I HATE it when nosy adults ask about my family. My siblings.

“So, you have an older brother? What’s the age gap?”

It used to be 10 years…

But then it was 9,

8

7

6

…

I will continue to age. But you are forever 19. Forever young. Forever foolish. Forever a son,

friend, and brother.

Forever mortal.

Acceptance

I wish I did

I wish I tried

But I’m scared

I’m scared that I will lose you

Lose your dimples

Lose your laugh

Lose the memory of your last mortal breath

Lose that smile of yours as the white cloth was veiled over you

Who knew that would be our last?

I want to cling on to you

To that memory

Forever

…

Aftermath

A bell jingles above my head, and a surge of cold air is tossed with the aroma of coffee and

absent chatter. Peering out, a mob of pedestrians press against the glass barrier, faces clouded in

faded grey.

A stone grave.

A tranquil face.

A feather-weighing heart.

My feet fumble forward, and each step sinks further into the scratchy carpet, advancing away

from the crowd. On the left of the sacred dwelling was a portal to the limitation of imagination.

A sapphire tale of a rabbit and a young girl. The ruby fable consisting of firefighters who

encapsulate houses in flames. As treacherous as they sound, these texts will not harm me.

Only to repeat once again. And again.

I seek shelter in this wooden valley.

My spirit and mind have set foot elsewhere, shielded from the hideous truth I choose to turn a

blind eye to.

In those worlds live the immortals.

The legendary will always persist. This valley is where the fruitful feast of literature is presented

with tears of joy and sorrow.

All of what is built up melts back into the serenity of me. Snuggling alone. Drowned under the

nostalgia of an old den, swelling with the consolation of fictional belonging……

I remembered you…

ed,

ed.