Time Doesn’t Heal All Wounds


Be strong. It’s what everyone urges when you are faced with tragedy so unfathomable you can feel your heart breaking in paralyzing pain.

I used to think of myself as strong. I used to believe that nothing could tear me down, until I was faced with such tragedy. Be strong. Time heals all wounds. Two years later, I can tell you time does not heal all wounds. It does not get easier with time.

How could losing someone you love ever get easy? The idea of death is simply unconceivable. How could you have been here yesterday, but have gone today? I can’t understand how I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to you, and I can’t even begin to forgive myself for not saying goodbye when I had the chance.

I took tomorrow for granted. I can’t breathe knowing that I’ll never see you again. Some believe in a higher power. Some believe that there is eternal immortality waiting for us when we are done on this earth. Growing up, the idea of heaven seemed like a bad fable. Now I understand the comfort of never wanting to come to terms with death, and it’s irrevocability. It can’t be, that our time is so limited and purposeless. There has to be something more. What kind of cruel joke is the universe playing on us if some live their lives in poverty stricken states, violent homes, never having known love or joy. How can we live and accept that this is all some have to live for?

How can we accept that we will never see our loved ones again? The part that consumes me with the most grief is knowing that I will never touch you again; I will never yell at you to stop smoking again, or breathe you in because I secretly love the smell of stale smoke on your wool sweater. If heaven is just a fabrication of our imagination, I will never get to see you again. The years are going so fast. You didn’t have the chance to see me graduate high school, or get accepted into graduate school. You didn’t get to see me fail my driver’s test, or make fun of me for it.

My years since you’ve left have been consumed with grief, a heavy heart and a meddled mind. I haven’t been able to think clearly. I remember thinking I was strong. Maybe I was, until something too immense shattered my vigor. I’m plagued by how much I miss you, and I’m beginning to miss my own life because of it. If there’s one thing you’ve taught me, it’s that our time is limited. Here today, gone tomorrow. I could be gone tomorrow. And if I would be, my last days, months, years, would have been spent in sorrow. Contemplating the meaning of life, and after life but not really living.