Grieving

It’s a strong word. It’s a strong verb. It’s a strong emotion.


I haven’t grieved for a long time; I’ve also never grieved the loss of a friend. I don’t know what to feel, or rather, I don’t know what I am feeling.

I don’t think my brain has completely registered it. Maybe it understood it for a while when there were tears streaming down my eyes while I was trying to study how to measure temperature. I didn’t exactly learn how to because it’s in German, the language that brought us together.

It’s been more than a year since we last saw each other in person, though we did do video calls with the others in Australia and Hong Kong this year. I will miss the random phone calls when I was in Göttingen, in Selangor, and in Osaka. I don’t think anyone else has ever tried to reach me at so many places.


I’m sorry for not texting you that often, especially since we started university, how was your university life actually? I’ve only managed to hear a little about it from other people’s mouths. I wish I talked to you personally instead.

I thought we had time. After all, we were supposed to have a Goethe reunion at some point right? And we’re all in Europe, a small continent, where it takes just over three hours to fly from one end to another end.


I cannot imagine how the others who were much closer to you are coping; I’m suffering. I had company the days before and couldn’t mourn properly. Tonight is dedicated to that.

It is strange.

I think, subconsciously, I believe that you’re gone. Yet consciously, my brain couldn’t grasp that concept. Alas, sometimes I couldn’t believe that my mom’s gone too, haha. Why are we alive if we would die anyway? What’s the purpose of life then?


I didn’t care enough to decipher your Instagram bio, but now I want to know. Maybe I’d write a computer program to find the answer. I hope you’re laughing in heavens at how much trouble this little beer lady will be going through.

How do I find your Spotify playlist that has the MAINSTREAM songs we listen to?

I’m drinking mead, aka honey wine, and I’m under alcohol influence but I also have to do the dishes myself later.


Brandenburger Tor, it’s been a week since I last texted you, why don’t you reply?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s