2 min read


Tonight I grief for one and many things...

Tonight I was preparing to delete my whatsapp account.  This was meant to be the finishing bow to a 3-year trek of diverting all my messaging away from just an app reliant on a cellphone number. After scrolling through all group messages from today to the first group created in 2013, I thought of everyone I had forgotten in the span of 8 years. I clicked every profile and read the name of every person in every group. This was part of me picking up to then let go, and let go for good. But something caught my eye, and I clicked on photos in my family chat. And that derailed tonight's agenda.

Explore with me as I pen my thoughts and emotions on this medium, it seems most suitable, outside of instagram stories and posts.

Tonight I wonder how do old men grow old with grief and regrets, how do they face realities of tomorrow, and how do they sleep?

I was ready to forgo most groups, afterall it has been years since we first met, got each other's name and then tried to remember it, how we worked together and concluded one or more arrangements, but always ended in either goodbye, stale conversations or a slow death of people leaving one by one.

In the family group chat, I saw pictures of my dog who passed in 2020, my dad whom now never comes home, my grandpa whom had an unexpected effect on my life when he unexpectedly and suddenly passed. I even saw photos of an ex who had met my family and was sending me off at the airport. Amongst the pictures, I also saw the transformation of family moments, the most effect coming from images I thought was my first time looking at. How could it be?

How could it be that I was blind to these moments of my mum, my dad, my sister as they grew, bloomed, and aged over the years? Where was I? And where was my spirit in those moments? Was I busy then? And with what exactly?

Thinking through these lines of questions without having any semblance of an answer put me into a deep state of hopelessness. Or perhaps better described as a feeling for lost time.

I don't think I was ready to drop my memories of my family. It hit me deep and inner me was in pain that I started to attribute blame.

I thought of people in my life who could perhaps emphatise, how else should I fix me? I kind of had to get it out there. And so I had to write. Leaders, friends, mentors, friends whom I've broken off contact with. Friends whom were a big part of my childhood. In later teenage years. In the army.

Wow, how did this even begin, and how can I find resolution and peace, between the people who now live in my head, and myself.

Christmas 2021. Righting wrongs. Opening boxes.