Prepping for grief
Death in movies feels different these days. Maybe it’s a hospital scene, or the family gets a call or a visit from someone who shares the news with them. Then there’s the slow-motion breakdown of their faces and their bodies. The visible crushing of their hearts and limping of their spirits. These days, I imagine it, I feel each brow rumple, and each sucked in gasp. I can feel their heartbreak, and it causes me to breathe harder. Photo by Ayomal Herath How much time could you possibly spend with your loved ones for it not to hurt when they go? How do you reduce the seemingly dooming and inevitable time, when someone so dare to you, so much a part of your life and routine, simply ceases to exist? You can’t even hear their voice anymore, their laughter… or see them move. The space of their existence, left unoccupied. The shoes they used to wear, lacking their feet, the clothes would never be worn again by them, and their scent will slowly dissipate. You can’t even trap it in a bottl...