Grieving

I never got to express my grief or to even acknowledge it. I am not even sure I ever will be able to let it out. Having lost Michael felt like losing a part of my brain. A very creative, comforting, chilled out part of my brain. The part that was responsible for my childhood dreams, the part that let me believe I had wings to fly wherever I wanted.
I hate growing up. The whole process that will never end and which I refuse to undertake profusely. Unlike Michael, I had a wonderful childhood. But just like him, I refuse to let it go, I refuse to believe it's over and I am making up my whole childhood universe all over again.
Which is why Michael will never die. Not for me. I refuse to admit it, I refuse to think of him as a mere human who can be killed by a mundane heart attack. A Romanian writer said: we are all immortal. We just have to die once before we become immortal. Michael has just become immortal to me. And with that, he's become more a part of me than he ever was when he was humanly alive. He's given me my wings back.