Hello.
It's been a week since I last posted something here, and to be quite honest, I haven't really been well myself.
A few weeks ago was my little brother's 1st death anniversary, and it takes all of my energy to not be sad, which is hard and tiring. I miss him so much and it sucks because he can't go down there and I can't go up there without being burn in hell first, so yeah.
Anyway, eversince he died, I've been keeping this journal to alter my sadness. The rule was simple: for everytime I get sad or miss him too much, I'd write.
The journal was very personal. I never mentioned its existence even to my closest friends, and none of the entries had ever published anywhere.
It's 2 hours to his supposedly 3rd birthday, if he was still alive, and I decided that I should probably write something from my journal because I know I have to vent out.
This following article was taken from my first post that I wrote 5 days after he died.
I remember crying and shaking so much when I wrote this; I had to stop several times because my handwriting got too messy to be read. But I finished it anyway, and I'm proud of that because that was my first sign of coping with his death.
Wednesday, July 3rd, 2013
Is it your heart? Is it your eyes, blood-shot red after too much crying?
No. It's your soul; one that washed up with regrets - that was the first hardest thing you have to go through after you lost a loved one.
It' been 8 days since my little brother passed away, and I still can't shake myself off of my regrets.
The regrets. The tears. The never-ending what-ifs.
I wake up every morning longing to hear the door got slammed by his scooter bike followed by his random ramblings in baby language to wake me up, but I know that won't happen anymore.
He was almost 2 years when he died.
Funny how in such a short time, you feel like part of you was taken away the day he died.
He can't even talk yet. He hasn't walk yet either, and he's too quiet for a kid his age.
And yet, he's an angel. To all of us. To me, who doesn't like being around kids that much.
Before he died, he spent his last night being healthy in my room.
I remember it very clearly, he was sick and he couldn't sleep well.
He woke at 2 AM and played with me, laying awake until 3 AM.
That was the last hour I held him alive and had I known he'd die in less than 48 hours after, I'd probably hug him tighter.
It is hard. I last saw him alive at 5 PM on Tuesday, and he died at 2.30 AM on Wednesday.
I wasn't there during his last hours.
I kinda relieved and feeling sorry about it, but then again, he won't be coming back.
Aside from the regrets, the second hardest thing after he died was to kiss him for the last time.
Had he only been sleeping, I'd bite his cheeks; just the way I used to do when he sleeps.
I like how warm and soft his cheeks were, like they were made to assure you that life can be tough but it will always be okay as long as I can bite into his puffy cheeks.
On that particular last time though, all I felt was coldness. Gone are the warmth and the softness; the tint of pink that was always around back when his life hasn't gone yet.
I kissed his whole face goodbye, wondering when will I be able to kiss him like that again.
I didn't attend his funeral.
I just couldn't stand the view of an angel being buried deep in the ground when he should've been here, next to me, making my life less-painful and gloomy.
The third hardest thing after he died was the first night without him.
It was painful.
I cried all night in shock because I can't believe that it's been only 2 days ago I held him close on the very same bed, and he was still alive and breathing and warm and comforting as always.
I remember falling asleep not because I can, but because I'm too tired of crying.
I remember crying and gurgling like a baby because oh God he was here 2 days ago. In my arms. Alive.
But here's the thing:
I finally came to his grave last week, and as I walked away I promised myself that I won't be crying too much anymore.
I'm sure as hell he's already happy up there, and down here, we should be too.
See you some time later in the future,
Afham Senoputera Azrian.
I know you're listening and watching, so let me say this to you:
We'll never stop loving you.
And also, we'll be fine. We will. Probably not soon enough, but we will. :)
...and yet here I am, a sobbing mess as I typed in these words.
Here I am breaking my promise to him.
Here I am looking back on the last few weeks I spent crying on him.
Here's your sister being a wimpy crybaby, Afham.
To be honest, going to his grave is still the hardest thing to do every Saturday morning.
It ruins me. I never talk to him like my family did everytime we're visiting him.
I rarely show any sign of sadness everytime they talk about him.
Not because I don't feel it anymore, but because I feel it a lot that I'm afraid it will flood everything and swallows the wall of resistance I've been building these past 12 months.
But hey, I'll be fine sooner or later.
And lastly, here's a little poem for you, Afham.
It's not written by me, but it's pretty much depicting how I feel about you nowadays.
Happy 3rd birthday, Afham sayang.
I hope They serve better cake and throw you a much better party than the one we threw down here a year ago.
infinite love and hugs,
Azrina
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