Have you ever lost someone who was so close to you that you didn't know how to explain life without mentioning their name? Remember the tears? The twisted anguish--like two metal rods twisting around in your stomach squeezing so tight you weren't sure you would be able to catch a breath? Remember how suddenly alone you felt?
Remember all this.
Now, imagine that same person actually isn't dead, but alive. The only problem: you will never see that person again. At least you don't think you will. There is always the possibility, but never the certainty. The hard part is, you can't talk to anyone about this person because they just wouldn't get it. They would try. A few might come close. But unless they actually know the person they will never fully understand the hole they leave.
So, what do you do?
You cry when no one is looking. You hang up pictures in your room. You talk less about the person in public, but your journals are filled with their name. Years pass. People remark how well you've healed. They don't know that one sight, one smell, or one triggered memory can cause the tears to come flooding back. It's a sorrow you can't explain. The wound is re-opened. The pain is deep.
For me, a TCK, this grief is not caused by a person, but a place.
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