Nnebuugo Paul.
3 min readAug 3, 2023

I said I wouldn’t write anything sad in a while, but I can’t help it. Life can be so sad sometimes, and if I don’t write about it and let it go, the sadness may overwhelm me. Some people say somehow, I have mastered how to transfer emotions. People around me are happy when I am happy, and when I am gloomy, they instantly feel it; maybe thats why I try so hard to be happy. Every day gloom comes, I try so hard to defeat it, and on the darkest of days, I call out to hope.

Of all the sadness that has tried to plague me, grief is the only one that seems to know my weakness. I try to avoid it, to be numb to the news of its arrival, to ignore the weakening effects of its act, but, some days, I lose and fall flat on my face in the pool of my tears.

Everything in life is poetic. Some poems are more beautiful than others. Some poems are funny, some bland, but grief, grief is different. That’s the best way to describe it. It’s sad, then warm, then reflective, then humbling. It’s a poem you want to stop listening to because of how painful it is and one you want to hold on to because of warm memories, and whenever it ends, it gets no applause, no acknowledgment because it’s numbing.

There’s no way to prepare for grief. No way. If you love up on people because you don’t know which day will be their last when their last day comes, you may never survive the loss. Suppose you detach from people because everyone dies anyway. In that case, when everyone dies anyway, you are left with unexplainable regrets, a bucket full of “what if’s,” and questions whose answers you may never find.

There’s no way to best react to grief. If you cry, you may fall sick, yet your tears would have changed nothing. If you stay numb, you stay cold. Even if reminiscing on memories doesn’t bring back a person, it spreads warmth in your heart, and oh, the comfort shared memories bring.

There’s no suitable word to say to someone grieving. I’ve always suspected, but now, I am sure. “Sorry,” “It is well,” “May they rest in peace,” “They are in a better place,” “May God comfort you,” etc. None of them is appropriate for a grieving person because it emphasizes that the person is not dreaming; it dashes the hope of one who believes “it’s all a lie.”

Nevertheless, sometimes, these non-appropriate words are somewhat comforting. These non-appropriate words and good old silence show that even though we are very different people living in a world that has almost gone insane, sometimes, we are all united by the experience of common yet distinct loss, and sometimes, that itself is comforting in a way that makes no sense. It’s jargon if you ask me — grief, life — jargon. It’s not ours to understand.



Nnebuugo Paul.

Words are beautiful, stories are beautiful pieces of memories.