The 6th Stage of Grief

I dreamt of you again, but this time you were alive. I even doubted it a bit, but this time you were real. 

Losing you taught me grief, before you I didn't know what it felt like. 

Losing you completely shattered me, I've never really voiced out how I used to weep silently on my bed at night because I didn't want to wake anyone up, and because I didn't want them to feel guilt. I'm not over losing you because once I woke up and realized it was just a dream, here I am again weeping once more.. Silently of course, cause at home I have to understand it was no one's fault, I'm not allowed my anger or tears, I just have to understand and I hate it really because I do understand. I can't scream and wail, dropping to the floor in front of everyone because then they'd feel guilty, and I don't want anyone feeling guilty so I don't wail and I don't scream. In my dream, it was late at night and I'd woken up to drink some water, you were laying on the couch sleeping and I brushed it aside, like "it's been long since I imagined you, this must be because last night I posted about how I can't wait until I'm ready for another cat", yes a cat. 

I hate the way it feels like something of shame you should feel for grieving a pet. 

I sometimes battle it and keep my grieving private because it's like society has deemed it unreasonable and unreal, so I keep it private. 

 I hugged you because whenever you do come, I always hug you tight like if I'm making up for not squeezing you tight the last time I saw you, you looked so chunky and clean, even slightly bigger than how I typically imagined you, so I hugged you and cried ugly cries because I thought once again I was just imagining you, you started pushing away like you usually do and for a mini second I thought you were real, because when I imagined you saying goodbye the last time, you didn't even struggle, you laid quietly in my arms and let me hug you. 

 But you "weren't" real, you couldn't be, you were gone weren't you? 

So I dropped you and left the living room but then you followed me, and then my sisters heard you, they were in shock too, and it begun to hit me, why could they see you? If they could see you too, I guess I wasn't imagining you? You went on your craze once I dropped you on the bed, zooming around like you usually do and I told myself; 

I could do this, I could let my guard down, this wasn't a dream and I wasn't imagining you, you were real. 

You scurried to my dad's room and his loud voice complaining told me, yes! You were real and I started believing it.

 I hugged you so very tight as we pondered on how this could be so, where did you come from, my sisters had a few ideas, we wondered if our mum had any thing to do with it as she'd stepped out not long ago, there was glee in my heart as we decided we'd figure out the 'how' in the morning so we could just enjoy the 'now' and I was beginning to feel grateful, extremely grateful with each second that passed because the longer I could feel this, see you, touch you, then clearly it was real, and I then let my guard down because this was real, you really were here, it's not a dream that's going to completely destroy me when I wake up, you were really here through a miraculous way which didn't matter, you were here.... 

But then I woke up and waking up and slowly realizing it wasn't real feels destructive in nature. 

The little things you take note of that tells you it was "obviously" a dream, guts you for even allowing yourself to... Dream, to hope.

 For one, my little sister wasn't even home, I scolded myself for forgetting that in my dream because I should have rejected such thoughts and stayed grounded, stayed vigilant against my delusion. 

Of course it was a dream, because the truth stares at me everyday in your absence, the truth messes with me, the truth ruined me, taught me the pain of internalized anger and the gory feeling of not screaming, I knew the truth! 

But I just wanted to imagine you were here, imagine that for some reason and somehow, God returned you to me like I always hope for... But it's not true! And you're never returning. You're... Never returning... You're gone.

So here I am, laying in my pool of tears, absolutely gutted for daring to dream.. To hope.

You see, the 6th stage of grief that comes after acceptance is actually the stage you live in forever, it's a personal purgatory. 

The 6th stage of grief, is illusion.