If you were here, this is what I would say

Trigger Warning: Grief & Loss

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Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash

It's been four years, but it feels like it has been longer than that since you left Earth, friend. I will never forget how my body went into shock after receiving the text message that you were gone. I remember staring at the wall, every sound fading into the background as I rocked back and forth as the pain travelled through my body.

I messaged Dee cause I wanted him to tell me it was a lie. I wanted to hear him say that they assumed it was you, but you were at that job you had just gotten and were excited about. I waited for your phone call, days on end, cause you said you would call me back a few days before. The call never came. You were gone.

I have so much regret about the way things ended. The days that followed were filled with guilt. I felt guilty for mincing my words and carrying anger longer than I should have. I felt guilty for not harassing you for the call you said you would give me and didn't. I felt guilty for choosing pettiness over you.

If you were sitting next to me, I would tell you that I love you. All of you. Your imperfections, weird analogies about life, and the anger you masked behind your smile. You hated being loved, but I should have said and shown it anyway. I would tell you how much I want to see you change the world, feed and clothe those in need, and build the empire you spoke about. I would remind you that you are not what happened to you. And that you get to choose the version of you that the world gets to experience.

If I could reach for you, I would hug you like I will never see you again. I would crack jokes so I could memorise the sound of your laugh. I would play never-ending music to watch you bop your head whilst scanning the room for a fine babe. I would sit across from you and listen to every word you said before dragging you to therapy. We both needed it. I would ask you not to leave before we realise the plans we made.

I dont know if you pass by to check on me sometimes, but I like to imagine that you do. Because sometimes I think I hear you telling me to keep going. And keep helping people the best way I know how. And sometimes I hear you whisper, "I am alright, don't worry about me. I am happy." And it brings up bittersweet emotions because how dare you be happy without me? Then I see your face forming in the clouds and think, "You deserve to be happy."

I miss you.

R.I.P Shingi

What would you say if they were here?

My dialogue with the wall I stared into inspired me to dedicate season 1 of the Y&O podcast to healing the wounds of loss. Sometimes, speaking about the pain in a safe space helps you and other people heal. I believe that every story told is a life changed.

I am inviting you to heal your wounds of loss through Y&O.

Here is how it works:

1. I do not need to know who you are. These recordings are anonymous to me and the listeners.

2. You do not need to name the person you are speaking about. We will call them by the place they once held in your life, e.g. friend, mother, boyfriend.

3. It will NOT be a video recording. Strictly audio.

4. Recording time is between 20-40 minutes. The length will always depend on the story being told and the amount of detail involved.

What kind of loss are we talking about?

1. Unresolved disputes that resulted in both parties avoiding communication.

2. Breakups. You may have had time to reflect on what happened and want to let them know how it made you feel without letting them know.

3. The biggest thief of them all. Death. Grief is unpredictable, and unfortunately, we aren't encouraged to talk through grief. We are expected to course through it and play the strong front. I want to open up this space to you for vulnerability.

How do I sign up to be a guest?

Sign up using this form. It does ask for an email address. Please feel free to use one that doesn't trace back to you if you are dedicated to anonymity. I will only communicate with you via email.

To healing our wounds, talking through the grief, and releasing the pain. *clink clink*