love is a dagger

I know you're better, without pain, and I see how much our families came together to try to save you. We didn't succeed, but we managed to unite again, to love each other, to respect each other, and all of that for you. I love you eternally, Helena, may you finally be without pain, happy and healthy Remember the last question I asked you? I asked what your favorite color was, and here it is—I tried to have a little fun with it but kept green in mind; I hope I got it right, hehe. Rest now, my love, and know that you are never—and have never been—alone 🥹💚 Today, I needed to use this edit to let out something that’s been suffocating me. Not long ago, I lost my grandmother. On the very day the hospital called with the worst news, I had a dream just a few hours earlier. Those who know me know I hardly ever dream. But that day, I dreamt she was leaving the hospital alive, recovered, and well. The reality is, I had already sensed the worst was coming. On her birthday, I saw how frail she was—struggling to walk and tiring easily. I had warned everyone. I offered my home so she wouldn't be alone in a place full of stairs. I knew time was running out, but the people around me didn't act. The last time I saw her was in the ICU. She was unconscious. All I could do was kiss her hand, rest my head against hers, and say goodbye. The dream I’d had hours before felt like a comfort, but waking up to that call from the hospital showed me it wasn't real. I chose this audio of Loki because it perfectly captures that gut-wrenching feeling: "Love is a dagger. It’s a weapon to be wielded from far or up close. You can see yourself in it. It’s beautiful... until it makes you bleed. But in the end, when you try to reach for it... it isn't real." This edit is my way of processing the pain of having warned everyone but not being heard, and the bleeding that remains when you love someone whom reality has taken away. Rest in peace, Grandma.