blog: might as well
The day your father passed away,
I woke up feeling a pain that I could only describe as,
"Not my own.
This isn't my pain.
I feel like I'm grieving for someone else.
I don't know who it belongs to, but it's not mine."
And hours later, you told me he had gone.
As a kid, when I got sad for no apparent reason, I would convince myself that it was just my turn to bear the pain of the world that particular day. But I hadn't truly FELT that sensation until this day. This day, there was a sheath over my ego, and a weight I was able to carry that was not my own. I didn't cry, but I was relieved to find out who this pain belonged to. It was you.