The sceond house from the corner has been greeted by a wave of saddness, the residential address of my friend. Welcomed by a handful of mourners after a joyful day of studying Mechanical Engineering. The soft twinkle in her eyes replaced by sorrow and heartache. I lean-in for our usual embrace of warmth and tenderness. What I find, however, is a deep wound inflicted by the passing of a dearest woman to you. Your loving mother. Numbness, the only language you speak fluently, with your cold touch pleading for aid. Words are incapable to ease your raging thoughts.
A book recommendation conversation at the local library, turn into a explosive compulsion of opposite forces; like at first sight. Long walks, insightful talks and ice cream dates, efforts that swept open paths to my heart, deepening my love for you. The mental dream of us together forever, journeying the walks of life, has been erased by a rumor turned true: You’re cheating. Mesmerized by your aura I can’t help but miss you. Your scent, your infectious smile and Ohhh…your sense of humour. Our relation; my first experience; my first deadly cut.
A leader and mentor that’s supposed to enrich and challenge mentee’s. What’s deposited instead, is darkness symbolizing rejection. Emotional abuse and preying on mentee’s weaknesses for leadership gratification. Leadership in the wrong hands breeds anger and hatred.
Healing, a process that seems distant even out of perspective in the mist of emotional tumult. Healing from loss is like learning how to walk again, one foot infront of the other. Cultivating an environment that keeps their memory and personality present in their absences. Allowing ourselves to be vulnerable.
Heartache, pain and rejection builds in us walls of trust issue’s, anger and unforgiveness. Unintentionally painting people with good intentions with the same brush of mischief.
Healing is forcefully claiming back our power and redefining ourselves beyond the shackles of unhappiness. It is not playing victim, but allowing love again. Acknowledging the pain, yet intentionally loving yourself through it all on its journey to infinite contentment with one’s self.
Bridgette M Luvhengo