A King

Always look forward.
I keep reminding myself, repeating that phrase over and over again. Stop looking at the past, and just. Move. Forward. Don’t look back. The past doesn’t exist anymore, it was a story we once vividly lived that now remains hollow. A ghost town. Once vibrant, now abandoned. Why should I go back? Why revisit painful memories, like intentionally jabbing a piece of broken glass into my skin, and then wondering why I’m bleeding? Why drink a glass of poison? And yet, thoughts come creeping back and I let them fill me up with bitterness and anger. I see red and remember past cruelties done to me and my loved ones, I whisper curses under my breath and pray that they find their mark.
On a day where I want to mourn my beloved uncle, someone tries to creep into my mind and remind me of their existence. What’s funny is that their existence means nothing and never did. Why else would they try so fervently and desperately to assert “I AM HERE”? If you’re reading this and I’m sure you are. You know who you are. And I detest you. How dare you try to scuttle into my life and disrupt it again? How dare you see my happiness and decide that your own matters more? How dare you ignore your own loved one for another attempt at satisfying your own cravings? Two simple words, repeated in two of my favorite different ways: Fuck you. Fuck off.

Back to the good part of my mind, where I settle in and breathe. And remember what I wanted to all along on this day: my uncle’s birthday, my uncle who passed away too soon and who I didn’t get to hug one last time. The uncle who didn’t get to dance at my wedding, the uncle who I cherished more than I could say and I never said it enough. There was always an excuse not to visit (mostly financial) and I know it’s valid and it’s not my fault but my heart is fucking breaking again, because on the day that he passed away his spirit came to me and comforted ME. When he should have been resting, finally, and when I couldn’t handle the news that wasn’t news, he was the one who comforted us.
He’s everywhere and happy and filling us up with joy to the point where we don’t know if the tears are sadness or relief that we’ve known him. I love him. His favorite quote that he used to say will be tattooed on my arm soon: “Live while you’re alive, and how you like to.” In Russian, of course. And goddamn if I won’t listen to every single piece of advice he’s ever given me. I’m hurting but I’m loving and I don’t know what else to say.
To anyone who’s felt the loss of a loved one, I’m hugging you today. I’m taking a shot of whiskey for him today, and I’m letting myself feel and breathe and cry.
And. Most importantly? No one gets to be in my energy unless I allow it. Especially not those who leech it and ignore the effects of their actions on others. Those people have no room here, in my life, or in this world. I’ve learned from Garik – give and love with all your heart, but only to those that deserve it. He was a king. He is a king. I miss him so much.

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