THE WEIGHT OF GRIEF

Words by Elena Ceja 
Art by Ari Kim 

Sometimes it feels so heavy—the pain of grief just sits on your heart, weighing it down, making it harder to breathe, your breathing harder, panic setting, in reminding you that you won’t see them again; that you have to grasp on to every remaining memory and story in desperation. What if you forget? what if you can no longer remember how he sat at the kitchen table drinking his coffee, or in the living room eyes fixated on the tv, how he said “buenos días” and “hija quieres cafe?” How do we turn back time so I can fixate on those small moments that mean so much more now that you’re gone? How do I go back and tell myself to remember every detail and every word? I close my eyes but the darkness and silence betray me—wanting to remember what I’m forced to forget. Not wanting to remember that you are not here, and that is the only memory that is clear in my head.