Some days, a memory presses gently on the heart and refuses to leave. Today was one such day. I woke up with a quiet heaviness, the kind that comes from old wounds that never fully disappear. Instead of pushing it aside, I decided to sit with it. And as I did, I realised how many people walk around carrying the same ache and grief hidden behind their smiles.
So I chose to write this. It’s not to reopen my pain, but to share the way I slowly learned to breathe again after losing someone who cared for me. Grief changes us. It bends us in ways we never dreamt of. But it also teaches us how strong the human heart can be when it learns to survive what it never expected.
And because some feelings speak better in poetry than in plain words, I wrote a small grief poem at the end. A soft reminder that even through loss, we can still find our way back to light, taking one gentle step at a time.
The Cousin Who Felt Like a Brother
I lost my elder cousin in a sudden accident when I was still doing my PG. I was too young to understand how life can change in an instant. He wasn’t just family to me. I used to mail him every week. “Hi Anna, these things happened in my life…” Those emails were letters to an older brother who actually cared. Being the only child, my cousins filled the space of siblings, and he always held a special corner in my heart. Perhaps because he was born and raised in the same house where I, as a toddler, took my first steps. He was also my grandfather’s first grandson. Losing someone who cared back felt like losing a piece of myself. Although it happened years ago, the memory remains fresh in my mind.
The Day Everything Changed
The day he died, I had a symposium at my college. That morning, when I woke up, I didn’t get the matching blouse. When I stepped out of the washroom after a shower, I slipped and fell by the door. Maybe the universe was warning me. Like the world says we should be optimistic, I ignored everything and went to college.
The day was filled with fun and smiles. I had six ice creams at the canteen, as though I had no future to taste them happily. By 4 in the evening, my other cousin messaged me, and I was excited about the day, sharing it with him. Suddenly, there were no replies. I ignored and thought he would be busy. The travel back home was happy too. I had a relative’s marriage nearby, so I went there.
When Shock Becomes Reality?
When I came back, I received a phone call, and my grandmother was on the other end. She asked me to give it to my mother. And when I first heard he had met with an accident. My initial reaction was that he would be admitted to the hospital and would be fine. But when she said it looks like the accident is a bit serious and the chances of him getting saved are less, I still didn’t believe it. When I finally had to face the truth that he had died after the clock crossed 4 that evening, it was a big shock.
The shock didn’t stop with grief. It entered my mind in ways I didn’t expect. I still remember when the ambulance brought him back home, and someone in the crowd handed me his phone and jewels to keep them safe. That’s when I realized how life can turn in a few seconds.
How Trauma Rewrote My Relationship With the World?
Traffic became a trigger. Roads felt dangerous. Even the sound of vehicles made my breath uneasy. Psychologically, my brain connected movement with loss. Trauma does that. It tries to protect you by designing fear around anything that reminds you of the moment everything changed. I wasn’t okay to go out and explore the world. I felt unnecessary travel kills people. If people stayed home, there wouldn’t be road accidents. I started saying everyone should wear a helmet and more. Even when someone leaves my home, I continue to pray until they return. I felt it would be nice if everyone stayed home.
The Guilt That Grew in Silence
Then another layer of grief and worries came into my life quietly. Guilt. A confusing one that made no sense but felt real. He loved life. He dressed well and styled every outfit. I remember him as someone who experimented with fashion more than anyone I knew. And somewhere inside, I felt I didn’t deserve to enjoy the things he used to love. So I stopped wearing good clothes. I avoided brands, colours, patterns, and anything beautiful. It felt wrong to celebrate life when he couldn’t live his. And I felt that was the right way to mourn his loss. And I needed to do that as a mark of respect to that lovely soul.
The Question My Heart Kept Asking
But grief matures with time. My heart started exploring deeper questions. Why did his life end so quickly? Is there something beyond what my eyes can understand? I always felt that his death had no meaning. There was no justice in it. Why should he die? Why should God end his life so soon?
The Truth That Softened My Pain
Slowly, a common truth settled inside me. We stay in this world only until destiny allows. Moreover, death is not here to say you are bad, so you should die. It also doesn’t say you are too good, so I am letting you live forever.
You don’t leave one second before your time. And you don’t stay one second after. Even if danger surrounds you, if your purpose isn’t done, life holds you here. And when your time ends, nothing can stop it, even if there are a million people to save you. This realisation didn’t erase the pain, but it softened the fear.
How Healing Slowly Found Me?
Healing didn’t arrive dramatically. It arrived slowly but with many lessons. Meditation and prayers became my anchor. It taught me to calm my breath. It helped my body release the tension I had carried for years. Poetry became my language. Every line helped me break the heaviness inside. Every metaphor held a tiny piece of my healing. And I was happy the first time I wrote a poem about him. It meant I was a poet to just face that moment.
My First Steps Back Into Life
One day, I stood in front of my wardrobe and felt a gentle pull. Not guilt or fear. A simple desire to live again. I wore a nice dress at home. No reason. Just proof that life still moves. On another day, I stepped outside for a short walk to see what the road looked like. The fear didn’t vanish, but it loosened its grip on my chest. I realised I wasn’t betraying my brother by living well. I was honouring him, and I know he would be happy when I live my life well.
Carrying His Memory With Love, Not Pain
Today, I carry his memory without guilt. I carry it with love. I no longer hide from the world or shrink myself. My story still continues, and he would want me to live it fully. I slowly recovered, not by forgetting him, but by growing into a version of myself that he would be proud of. I hope this blog will help people dealing with the loss of their loved ones. If yes, share in the comments or drop me an email.
Overcoming Grief Poem
Today, I felt like letting go of any lingering guilt, fear, or other negative emotions associated with this incident. The anger I once felt about God and fate now looks meaningless and foolish. So here goes my style of a grief poem about a loved one’s loss.
I carry your memory,
But I won’t stop walking.
My tears still fall,
Yet my smile learns to rise.
Grief sits beside me,
But it does not own my days.
I miss you dearly,
But life still calls me forward.
So I move gently,
holding your memories in my heart,
while choosing to live again.
By
Shalini Samuel
For more from my pen visit: https://writershalini.com
