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After she checked her watch while holding stethoscope on Aurora’s chest, she announced the time of exitus lethalis and said we can have as much time as we want with Aurora and left the room. I kept holding Aurora’s body and I couldn’t think of face so beautiful and innocent as was hers. Later that evening, the doctor said that we should look for a good therapist, as the first year will be the hardest, and I was thinking doubtfully if something can be harder than these days and these hours?

They say grief is a process, having some path with some fluctuations but mainly following that path of that process. They say there are three stages: denial, anger, and acceptance. Later they developed it in five, after that in seven. They also say people deal with grief differently and stages might not be sequential, following each other, but might be more interrupted, shaken and mixed.

So far, I can say that there are no stages. A small piece of my mind will always believe all this is a very bad nightmare and I just need to wake up, and I will still have my belly, we will fight about which trolley we need to buy and everything will be okay. You may call me delusional, but that small piece of my mind will forever be in denial, trusting in magic, angels, and souls. Trusting she is here, somehow photoshopped into some other reality so I cannot see her. I am not sure if my brain is playing sick games on me, but sometimes I can smell her and it’s unbearably beautiful.

I can tell so far, there is no linear process. It is more like never ending war battle. Sometimes you are doing good against all odds, and sometimes very bad losing all power you have, but however it is, you know you cannot give up. You also know it’s gonna last your lifetime. This is the closest description of grief I can give – knowing something will never end, but knowing you have to live with it. On the other side, I am deciding to stay a child at heart who believes in magic and other worlds and realities.

For I will be forever angry too. At myself the most. I will probably find a way to forgive myself, as I know that we don’t know how to time travel and reverse the past. This question of WHY HER will keep bothering me until I too close my eyes forever. Anger will remain.

The last stage is acceptance. This is supposed to be a silver lining, where the camera films the people joyful and smiling like nothing ever happened. This is where our movie inspired, social media centric brain goes stupid. Our human finitude makes us believe everything has that one point we need to reach. Our happiness has that one point of getting to some thing and we will be happy. Our sadness has that one point we come to and we will stop being sad. I am not aware if the acceptance came gradually. The only difference is that then I was able to still hold her and now I cuddle her in my thoughts. I accepted the moment her soul left her body and I knew she was not there anymore. Acceptance was the first thing that happened, there was nothing that could have been done at the moment. There was no magic and hope was not enough. \

So what they say about grief is like when men speak about vaginal pain. Grief is endless, but not unlivable. It doesn’t follow our time concept, nor it follows our finite concept. Grief is waste emptiness inside, heavy as the whole universe folded itself so many times to fit and live inside your chest. Grief is the capability of being fully aware of everything, clenching your teeth and stretching your arms to catch another ray of sunshine. It is embracing life with a smile in the morning and accepting beauty again, knowing it will never be as beautiful as it would be with Her inside. We laugh again, knowing the world is sometimes a terrible place to be.

There is no logic good enough to explain the concept of death to our brain. Despite that we keep living our days like we are never going to die. Yet, after moments like this we realize how delusional our ”real world” is and we grab our head in panic thinking how to live more. Looking up to the sky, I search for that one shiny star called Aurora and I hug my emptiness inside. My soul smiles and my mind unwinds all the memories, for I will forever grieve after you, differently than what everyone described and in the grief I will smile too.

“And when your sorrow is comforted (time soothes all sorrows) you will be content that you have known me. You will always be my friend. You will want to laugh with me. And you will sometimes open your window, so, for that pleasure . . . And your friends will be properly astonished to see you laughing as you look up at the sky! Then you will say to them, ‘Yes, the stars always make me laugh!’ And they will think you are crazy. It will be a very shabby trick that I shall have played on you…”

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