“Losing people you love affects you. It is buried inside of you and becomes this big, deep hole of ache. It doesn’t magically go away, even when you stop officially mourning.”

― Carrie Jones

I created connections with people who surrendered to me and wished to have them around for the rest of my life. I cherished the moments as long as they lasted, but I also created attachments with them, making it tough to let them go. The loss of someone loved was very hard because I would never see their physical appearance again, and all that remained were the memories I kept with them. As a mortal, I had limited days to experience life on Earth, just like the cycle of existence observed in plants, animals, stars, and rocks. I didn’t interfere in their natural processes, and the same should apply to humans. Mourning was my selfish way of holding the loved one closer, while in reality, those who passed on found peace and acceptance in other realms. My energy created cords of attachment that kept them stuck. It was essential for me to heal myself, grieve, and come to terms with the situation, but it was equally vital to release those who were no longer with me. It was painful and challenging to accept, but it was crucial not to keep the energies stuck. I was allowed to cry, to deny the unfairness of God’s decision, to feel anger, and to suffer in silence, but I did these things to heal myself. I was allowed to weep and cleanse my eyes, but I needed to reach acceptance before imprisoning someone in my mind for too long. I was following the cycle of life, and interfering in the process was not possible. I needed to limit mourning to small doses.

“What I was afraid of was my own grief, the weight of it, the ineluctable corrosive force of it, and the stark awareness I had of being, for the first time in my life, entirely alone, a Crusoe shipwrecked and stranded in the limitless wastes of a boundless and indifferent ocean.”

― John Banville

The loss was probably not even one of my memories, but maybe a heartbreak was. It was not always necessary for someone to die; they could simply choose to take a different path and leave behind whatever didn’t serve their purpose. The process was very similar to mourning a loss. A bird sang louder and more often when it felt free, and a wild animal would return to the backyard for the food I gave, without my domestic interference. I was a free spirit, travelling in this world, driven by passion, desire, and curiosity, needing to experience different situations to successfully accomplish my engagements in this life. I was living in a busy plaza where everyone passed through but went in their own direction, and just because I intersected with some other souls didn’t mean I had to keep them stuck and hold them back from their journey. I had my days counted, and my train did not stop at every station. I shared the space in time, but I was on my own journey. When my stops came, I needed to step aside and take the next connection. If I got attached to someone who was in my life only for a few stations, I would miss my destination, and they would get lost too. It was important to let people follow their dreams, passions, and their own way, even though it was painful and hurtful. Hopefully, a few stops alone in an empty wagon would bring clarity and understanding to me, helping me realize that mourning should come only in small doses.

“Unless you have been very, very lucky, you have undoubtedly experienced events in your life that have made you cry. So unless you have been very, very lucky, you know that a good, long session of weeping can often make you feel better, even if your circumstances have not changed one bit.”

― Lemony Snicket


I cried when I got filled with strong emotions and couldn’t find a place to add them all. I let them roll, wiped my sad eyes, and released the burdens. Tears were probably created for me to stop and recalibrate the compass of my journey. The act from the stage was sometimes interrupted by the curtains that dropped to change the background and the costumes. I needed a break to pull myself together, I needed to stop to powder my face and refresh my makeup. I needed to cry, even if it didn’t help much, but a good session of weeping could act as a curative solvent. There was no miraculous reaction to the tears, but it was the pause I took to stop my repetitive activities. My house wasn’t going to change when I wiped the dust, but sometimes I stopped and cleaned everything because I needed to unclog what was stuck. Mourning was just a pause I needed to take to release and put things back in order.

“Someday you’re gonna look back on this moment of your life as such a sweet time of grieving. You’ll see that you were in mourning and your heart was broken, but your life was changing…”

― Elizabeth Gilbert

I was stronger than I thought, capable of great achievements, and the power I gained when I was able to put aside the grief and take care of my beloved ones in those hard moments should have only made me look within to see my true worth. The ones that passed were outside of my soul, and what was left was only within me. I should have cared more for what was left than what was gone. I was a complicated person with many sides, conflicting wants, and desires, all compacted in a mortal form, weak in front of my own fears. I needed to care about my internal integration unless I wanted to risk external disintegration.

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