The demons come at night

During the day the sun shines. I laugh a lot at work, with my colleagues and their oddities. Fart around the afternoons, hang out with friends, chat with my gurl squad, study during the nights. Then the darkness lowers itself over the city, the sky turning dark blue. A halo of lighter blue enhances the contours of the city and reminds me of the coming light season, the one where the flowers start to grow and the new little leaves carry the shade of yellowy green.

I got to bed. I dream. I dream about everything that has happened. I dream about being a teenager again and that both of my parents are alive and still married, how I try and make them find each other again. I dream about old loves, the ones that I can’t miss because they were never mine. I dream about my ex-husband and his new and the child they’re expecting together. I dream about the house, how I’ve been torn from there and have to collect the remainder of my things.

I dream about how I’m talking to J about how we’re gonna settle mom’s old house now that she’s dead. I dream that I have to tell mom that rummages around in the kitchen, that she’s dead. I dream that I get anxiety over having to have that conversation with her, to tell her that she’s no longer alive and that we need to give away all her things. I dream of her being in the hospital and that she knows she’s going to die. I dream about her waking up and realizing that she’s still alive and still has death in front of her, crying in sorrow. I dream about my divorce. How I lost my job and security at the same time. About how I need to face old ghosts. I dream about soon being without somewhere to live and have nowhere to go.

Night after night.

Then my sleep is disrupted by the sharp light of morning. I get up, ruffled feathers from the night. Try to drench the memories with a bath tub of coffee.

I know grief comes in waves, and I know the waves are shallower and more regular nowadays. More like the seasons storms than sudden tsunamis. And I know that in the long run, I have to handle the grief of everything, no matter how I chose to do it. But I still can’t help but long for calmer nights, stillness in my dreams. The boring but safe routines of everyday life. Not having to face my demons every night.

This too, shall pass.