The Lingering of Grief

I started writing this at 5:10 pm on June 26, 2025, about 30 hours before submission ends, so it may not be perfect, but it captures something AI cannot, which is imperfection —human imperfections. There may be a few run-on sentences or unnecessary commas, but I don't care as long as you feel my story.

Only 12 years old when death visited me. Before then, death was almost fictional, something only seen in movies. My adolescent mind believed it could never touch me or my family, but it did... the day you died, death graced my eyes and I felt grief for the first time, but please don't flatter yourself, the grief wasn't for you, I was grieving hope... Hope that one day we'd have a relationship like the ones I hear about, or a future where jealousy didn't fill my mind every time my friends told stories about their dads, there were no memories for me to share, you left me with nothing, not one thing- wait you did leave something two things to be exact a broken adolescence and a young heart filled with the heavy feeling of grief that lingers from then till now and possibly after my last breath.

If you can hear me, I'd usually say I don't like you, then go on about my day. Since this is a story, I'll go a little further, I swear on your name when I'm telling a lie, because your peace does not matter to me. I pray heaven doesn't exist so there isn't a possibility you'd experience bliss. I think up scenarios where I'm granted the ability to tell you anything, and in those, I turn away, shut my eyes, and block my ears because you don't deserve my words; you deserve nothing.

Grief and I have grown to understand each other so much that people speak of grief as if it's just a burden of sadness, and I take offense on behalf of a friend, yet I never speak up because I hate that it is attached to you. I am not ashamed of grief, I'm ashamed of YOU!

Grief has been my friend since your death. I was stripped raw and exposed to a new lens of life, as an experience. Death was unkind, but grief showed patience, grief taught me it's ok to mourn what you didn't have, but you must appreciate what you do have. Is it less fortunate, or were you given a story that adds depth to the human experience, the ability to communicate emotions that other humans relate to, or become aware of its existence? Grief provided me a blanket of comfort that I am human with emotions that are as dark as the bottom of the sea and as light as the surface. My greatest heartbreak brought me my greatest gift... humanity. Grief knows me more than you do, Dad.

Under this shallow surface of disdain for you, A sense of longing lingers all through me ... longing for the story to be different, wishing you had followed my mom when she fled the war after my birth, she protected me, you did the opposite, choosing yourself as you always did. I long to know what your face looks like in person, since everyone says we look alike. I long to know how easier life could've been if you were present. I long to know how you felt when I was born and why you never chose me. Most importantly, I long to know you as a person, as a father, as a friend, then maybe, just maybe, I could rid myself of the burden of hating you.