Hereafter

I've been spending the last couple of days in my grandma's room. I've been sleeping there for the past two nights as well. It's funny how everyone else seems to be afraid to be left alone inside her room. Somehow, being inside her room gives me comfort. Staying in her room fills me with grief... the rush of painful memories is just too much for me to bear... but it gives me an odd sense of comfort as well.

I really don't understand why my parents and my siblings are behaving that way. I guess people who are not in the medical field see things differently. they are prone to religious manipulations, and are more receptive to folklore and superstitions. i don't believe in ghosts. i don't believe in spirits who choose to remain with the living because they still can't move on for whatever reason. With the number of deaths that I have witnessed, with the number of times i spend alone in dark and secluded places, if those entities were real, i would have seen one by now. Every now and then i hear people saying that they have seen ghosts, that they have seen departed loved ones... in my head, I just keep on saying bullsh*t. There is absolutely no proof. All we have are anecdotes, people swearing by what they thought they have seen, but with absolutely no tangible evidence to support their pronouncements. It's been well documented that people are prone to experience visual and auditory hallucinations whenever they are stressed, whenever they experience much grief. I have tried to explain this to my mom, to my aunt, to my cousins who have sworn that they've seen their departed loved ones reaching out to them. but even with sufficient evidence, when it comes to the battle between what's real and what's only an illusion, people would still choose to believe what they want to believe. I can't really say I blame them. When the truth hurts as much as it does sometimes, it is better to believe in lies when they give us so much comfort.

My family believes that my grandma's presence is still in her room. That's the exact words of my dad. Let's say for the sake of argument, she still is. her spirit is still with us. I am willing to suspend my disbelief. I just can't understand why they are so afraid of her. She played a big part in all our lives. She played such a big part in my life. How I can I possibly be afraid of her. If it's true that she's still there, i would spend more time there, talking to her, trying to reach out to her. And that's exactly what i have been doing for the past few days. i suspended my disbelief, and tried to reach out to her.

Most of the time I just sit on her chair. Looking at her photo albums, watching TV, eating a snack, but most of the time i just sit there doing nothing. i try talking to her, asking her how she felt about me, if she was angry, if she was disappointed. I tell her how sorry I am for not doing enough. for never doing enough. but most of the time, i just sit there, in silence. And then without warning and without any provocation, I always start to cry. There were still so many things that i wanted to do, and so many things that I wanted to say, but i just couldn't. Because the belief that she's still here with us is nothing but superstition. I never wanted to admit this, but everyone knows that i was her favorite grandchild, and I just find it impossible to believe that she reached out to our family driver, that she made her presence felt to our housekeeper, but she never tried to reach out to me. The things that they say they've seen, the noises that they say they've heard, the things that they say they've felt--- all of those things are nothing but figments of their overly active imaginations, because their minds have been programmed to react in such a way. Because the minds of most people have been programmed to react in such a way when faced with death. All those hours that i spend inside her room, those two nights that i cried myself to sleep in her bed, all those times that i have been talking to her, crying out to her, and i never got any answer. not even one small sign that she could hear everything that i have been saying. I try to convince myself that she's still there, but i never got any confirmation. Because all those stories are just lies after all. Lies created by people to give themselves comfort. Lies that are passed on in every generation, so that it would be easier for all of us to cope with such loss. So that it would be much easier for us to move on. We pretend that it's not really too late because there's still an afterlife, and our loved ones are still watching us, guiding us as we go on with our lives. We pretend that it's never too late because they can still hear us say thanks, they can still hear our apologies. But it's all just a myth. There is no afterlife. Upon death, there is only nothing. We created this selfish fantasy so that we could feel good about ourselves. So that we could get rid of the grief... so that we can be free from the guilt. so that we can avoid all the pain that we deserve, all the hurt that we should be feeling indefinitely. We can say thanks, we can ask for forgiveness, we can tell them how much we love them, we can tell them all the things that we never told them when they were still alive... we can tell them all those words that would have mattered if we had told them when we could still hold their hands, when we could still see their smiles, when they could still answer back... but all this would be futile, because all those words wouldn't reach anyone. We could still make believe and convince ourselves otherwise, but the truth is, it's all just a myth. it's all make believe. It's all bullsh*t. I can no longer reach her, no matter how hard i try... because she is long gone.

And that only makes the guilt, the loneliness, and the pain that i have been feeling so much harder to bear.