800 Days of Living as A Grieving Ghost

People around me seem to move at their usual pace

yet I feel frozen, disconnected from the world I once knew

and my life in grief is a muted existence

Ma, losing you unexpectedly, 800 days ago, was an unimaginable shock, all of sudden, my world split open, and everything I had known and loved felt as if it was ripped away, since I have been existing somewhere between the present and the past, I am physically here but my heart, my mind, and my spirit are a million miles away, floating through life on autopilot, the feeling of truly living had vanished, and your unforeseen passing, has turned me into a silent, grieving ghost with a heartbeat, haunted by memories, yearning, and an unrelenting ache of your absence, in spite of my ghostliness, my loving husband, Philip, unwavering in his presence, reaching out to me, extending his hand even when I feel too lost to take it

Ma, grief has done something inexplicable to my soul for the past 800 days, there are days when I do not even feel alive, as if I am nothing more than a silhouette, as if I have slipped into a different realm, life exists on one side, and I am standing on the other, reaching back for something that has forever gone, my presence in the world is almost invisible, even the simplest actions breathing, eating, speaking, all feel burdensome and monumental, taking tremendous effort for me to do the bare minimum, just enough to function, each damn day bleeds into the next, a colourless blur, since I have lost so much of myself in this grief, and I feel like a total stranger in this damn new reality of life, without your devoted presence

Ma, grief has transformed me into someone I hardly recognise, a shell of myself, someone moving through daily routines with the vacant, aching presence of a ghost, for the last 800 days, my body may carry out basic tasks, but my mind wandering constantly, drifting to the time when you were alive, life felt whole and full, sliding back to the memories of you, and reliving moments with you over and over, everything else fades into the background, and I find myself lost in thoughts, that feel more bloody real than the present, in this fragile state, where my pain is so unbearable that it clouds my existence, but I am not truly alone even if it felt this way most days, as Philip has anchored me to what little reality I can still touch

Ma, 800 days have passed, but time loses meaning, blending into one long damn hurt, and every moment felt both empty and heavy, as if I have submerged in a fog that both softens the world around me and isolates me from it, I have no energy to engage with life as I once did, while I have been endlessly searching for you, and utterly lost in a haze of grief, Philip notices, of course, as he feels my emptiness, my silence, and my struggle, he watches me hurt by your agonising absence, knowing there is nothing he can do, to take my pain away, yet still, he patiently remains by my side, instead of resenting the space my sorrow fills, he respects it, and, in his own quiet way, guiding me through this damn unfathomable time

Ma, during these 800 days of my grief journey, I have felt like I have nothing left to give, as my heart shattered beyond repair by your devastating loss, and it must be immensely hard for Philip to live with me like this, a ghost of the person he once knew, and yet, he accepts me exactly as I am, however incomplete that may feel, even though he wished to have the old me back, he checks in, not asking too much, just enough to let me know he is still here, even when I am not fully with him, he meets me wherever I am, and allowing me the grace to exist in this liminal space between past and present, even in my half-alive state, and he understands that I am mourning your awful absence in a way, defies easy explanations

Ma, one of the hardest parts of the past 800 days, is I have been emotionally distant, even when Philip is right beside me, as conversations became arduous, and even breathing felt too loud, too alive, too painful, so he speaks for both of us, even when I am so damn numb to summon a response, he still talks to me, shares your stories, and recounts simple things he knows you would have laughed about, creating a sense of continuity that pulls me back into the present even if just for a moment, he tells me it is alright to take my time, and to be wherever I need to be, he holds a space for me that I scarcely have the strength to occupy, but most significantly, he has been the steady voice I hear through the thick veil of grief

Ma, in the 800 days of me being a grieving ghost, Philip could easily become frustrated, or feel neglected, but instead, he steps in, taking on the responsibilities and routines I cannot bear to face, doing the things I cannot manage, he keeps me nourished, cooks meals even when I have no the appetite to eat, sits beside me even when I feel unreachable, shows up every single day, carrying me through it all without asking for anything in return, though his small gestures may not erase my pain, but his actions create bit of safety in the storm, that reminding me while I may be only half-present, I am still here, that I am still seen, that I am still loved, I am still worthy of care, worthy of compassion, even in my most broken state