Realisations...

And as the tears slowly roll down your cheeks, you cry because of your pain. Because life’s just not fair. Because now, only now, after 13 years of your life, you realise how much they loved each other, why he doesn’t talk about her, why the argument seems to be locked forever away in a far place you can’t reach. As the pain attacks you and your heart in waves, you realise why you are the way you are. Why taking decisions is difficult, why your diary entries are so messy, why you like writing so much. And as you pause to try and take a deep breath, you realise that if only he had given you this before you wouldn’t have gone past that moment in your life, while everything was changing in you, while you didn’t understand what you were becoming. That moment that meant that your self esteem was forever damaged. You realise what love is, true love, between two adults with lives of their own, you realise how scared she was that he wouldn’t love her as much, but how much his devotion for her was as total as hers for him. You realise how much you must remind him of her, how many nicknames he now uses for you, and you understand how deep his love really was. His protectiveness only comes from the fact that his love for her, then transferred to the only thing he had, you. You cry, for how much suffering he must have gone through, trying to get you to grow up, while loving you more than life itself, and while he was all alone. You now know how many similarities you have with her, and how much this must hurt him, seeing as you’re slowly distancing yourself from him, while being all the more similar to her. You cry, knowing that he will come home soon and that life will start over again as before, that you have this opportunity only to sort out the mess you’re feeling inside. You find out that it doesn’t matter if you don’t pass school, if you don’t get into university, if your friends are there for you or not, but all that matters is that she’s not here for him anymore. Talk about putting things into perspective. Nothing matters anymore. But would she be proud of you if she were here? No. And with that, sobs shake your body even deeper than you would’ve thought possible, and you stop caring of everything. Because your father’s pain is overwhelming you, and you are only feeling the beginning of it, and because your own mother is dead and has no reason to be proud of you, wherever she is. But you still hope.