As I stood tall near your grave, nothing feels real. I cannot say I am an insensitive asshole, out-of-touch with my feelings. It just feels.. numb.
Your daughter, my sister, was wailing in my back. We watched your body buried to the earth. She lost her conciousness, your youngest brother and her friends were comforting her. Mom and I still stood there. You went down. You're actually leaving us.
I couldn't remember for the life of me the rest of my thoughts at that time. But I did remember one: what the fuck is wrong with me? Yes, I cried. A little tears here and there. Yet where is the scream? Like Dede did? Was it gone? Was I that cold?
I took a step back. So was Mom. The soil was fresh. We chanted some prayer, then we left. Mom and I stole a glance on your grave once before we went home. Forever we will be alone.
Rode an angkot to home. People were dispersed. I was actually working a lot on the administration stuff for your funeral. One step to the house, I realized something's change. The house was, and is still, a home to me. There was this coldness, though. Because your warm presence was not already there.
Oof, to say that I'm devastated is an absolute understatement. I sat down in front of the window. Then I said it's all my fault. I wasn't attentive enough. I thought you were annoying. We fought just because. And I gave up. I was supposed to be the one who's educated, who reads on shit. And yet, I didn't even realize your symptoms that first morning. I didn't force you to consume your meds. I just... went to work. When you're hospitalized, I'm still going to work. How stupid am I? You're the biggest support in my life. And my ambition still the number one priority? Seriously, what is the fucking point of the glory, of the achievement, and money, and good quality of life, if you're not here? I can say with an absolute confidence, not nothing, but much, much less.
I'll admit this though. My arrogance got in the way. I was so sure you're going to be cured, you're going home. Like always.
But nothing is always.
Anyways, we changed the house's layout. To see your chair empty sucks butt. To this day still. I don't want to feel my feelings. Sometimes I talk to my friends about it. But... I don't know. It doesn't really help. I just can't say to them about my remorse fully.
Before your death, there is nothing I regret in life. Yes, I do make a lot of mistakes. A lot, a lot. I'm no saint. But I loved my life at the time. All of that mistakes bring me there. Like you said, regret is useless. What's important is the next step, what will you do tomorrow. So... you're being gone is the one thing I feel remorse for. Because, you know, you not being here is devastating. Sometimes I think about it, but never realize how bad it was when it's real.
You were the foundation of our lives. Mom, me, and Dede. We have our lives, sure, but you're the one place for me to go home. Safe, and protecting at the same time. Now, living is like driving a motorcycle without helmet and jackets surrounded by the motherfucker trucks. Dangerous, and not enjoyable at all. Except you never arrive at your destination.
I rarely think about you. When I do, I distract myself. Not because I don't love you. I just don't like me in those sadness mode. I can't work, I can't enjoy anything at all, I can't even spend time well with Mom and Dede. When I was on those phase, I hate myself so much. I don't want to live, but don't want to kill myself, you know? Just... be. But that's impossible. So I keep runing.
Some people say to me I have to feel my feelings. But really, how? It's too much. Times goes by, I also realized I become this hollow-heart being. I don't know. Lots of things I don't know. I need to escape for sure.
Death sucks butt.