Delicious Burdens

A few days ago, I lost someone who played a huge role in my childhood. We
weren’t the closest of friends, and my impact on his life was probably less
than his on mine, but my teen years would not have been the same without
him. He was my first and longest teenage crush, my debut escort, my year 12
formal partner. We danced tinikling together and went Christmas carolling
with friends. I knew him when he wore braces, when he sang for the church
choir and when he worked for a bank but dreamed of being a singer.

Grief isn’t simple. It’s raw and angry and, at its core, unbearably silent.
We cry and we rage and we whisper, but grief itself is locked in the
heart—excruciating and unspeakable. In the coming years, when grief has
lost some of its intensity, we’ll mourn the friend that we miss, the person
who brought so much into our world but left it far too soon. And no matter
how much time has passed, we’ll always feel his loss in our hearts.

But today all we know is grief, and my heart breaks for him, for his
family, for his closest friends and, yes, for me.