Scream I Must

How could it be, that only 5 Sundays ago, we ran home to shower up, grab blankets, socks and sweaters so we could be by your side? How could it be, that only 5 Sundays ago, I curled up on the floor by your bed the whole night through? How could it be, that only 5 Sundays ago, you could still give me a smile and a thumbs up when I asked if you were feeling alright?

I have been telling myself each time it hit me, these weeks past, that I am actually not here, not in the country, or that you've gone back to JB - that's why we've not seen each other for so long. And then I tell myself, that is not quite right either, so for the last year or so, with the aid of technology, no matter where you or I traveled, we still saw and spoke at least once a week.

And then I get angry with you, for leaving me behind. For going off by your lonesome self, leaving me to fend for everyone else. To sort out your affairs. To tie up your loose-ends. To figure things out for myself. To have to depend on others who perhaps now feel I am too much of a pest.

To say I miss you, is an understatement. Just like the word "condolence" which is suppose to convey all things unspeakable, "miss" does not begin to describe the emptiness that is now exposed.

Tonight I want to sit and scream at the top of my lungs. Too hell if I scare the shit out of my lovely neighbours - this girl needs to let it out, let it rip, let it run lose and wild.

Cos right now, a month in, I have held it in enough and I have held up it enough. It's time to claim my space, my grief.