An Unseen Sorrow

Phillocaliste
3 min readApr 5, 2024

--

The truth is, writing this is my way of coping, of sending my love and thoughts to him in the only way I currently can.

Photo by Unseen Studio on Unsplash

Sometimes, life throws us into the depths of experiences so profound and so intricately painful that finding words to encapsulate them feels like an insurmountable challenge. Yet, here I am, attempting to weave my current state of heartache into a coherent narrative, hoping it resonates with anyone who has ever loved from the shadows, ever cared from afar.

The news hit me like a ton of bricks — he, the person who occupies such a significant part of my heart, is lying in a hospital bed, about to undergo surgery. The mere thought sends a shiver down my spine, conjuring up a storm of emotions so intense, it feels like a relentless wave crashing over me, leaving me struggling to catch my breath. It’s a peculiar type of sadness, one that’s compounded by a profound sense of helplessness and isolation.

You see, my connection with him is one that exists in the silent spaces of our lives, away from the prying eyes of the world. It’s a bond that, for reasons too complex and painful to delve into, must remain hidden. So, when the news reached me, it wasn’t just the fear for his health that tore at me, it was also the realization that I couldn’t be there, physically present, to offer comfort or support. I couldn’t hold his hand, couldn’t whisper words of encouragement, or even let him know that in this terrifying moment, he wasn’t alone.

The irony of it all is that in today’s connected world, where messages and sentiments can be shared with the click of a button, I find myself more isolated than ever. Every instinct in me screams to reach out, to make my presence felt in any way possible, but the harsh reality is that my very existence in this situation could complicate things further for him. So, I retreat, forced into a corner by circumstances beyond my control, where all I can do is hope, pray, and send silent words of love and strength into the universe, hoping somehow, they find their way to him.

It’s a surreal kind of mourning, mourning the normalcy we never had, the openly shared moments we were never allowed, and now, the supportive gestures I’m unable to give. In the stillness of my room, I find myself grappling with a multitude of what-ifs. What if the surgery doesn’t go as planned? These thoughts are my constant companions, feeding into the helplessness that has become a second skin.

But even in this darkness, I hold onto a flicker of hope. I believe in his strength, in the resilience that first drew me to him. I cling to the belief that even though I can’t be there physically, the love and care I send from afar have their own way of providing comfort. Maybe, just maybe, on some level, he feels the warmth of my thoughts, the strength of my silent support, and knows that he’s not alone.

To those reading this, you might wonder why I chose to share something so personal in such a public manner. The truth is, writing this is my way of coping, of sending my love and thoughts to him in the only way I currently can. It’s also a reminder to anyone who might be going through their own silent battles, their own versions of unseen sorrows, that you’re not alone. Love, in all its forms, even the ones unseen or unacknowledged, holds a power that distance, circumstance, and even societal norms can’t diminish.

As I navigate through this tumultuous time, I find solace in the knowledge that true love, even when it must be silent, is never wasted. It’s a beacon of hope, a testament to the human spirit’s capacity to care deeply and love fiercely, despite the challenges.

And so, I wait, I hope, and I love, from the silence of my heart, believing in the quiet strength of unseen bonds.

--

--