With a life dedicated to being a voice behind the sports world, journalist Sarai Nazaire worked her way through the ranks to become one of the youngest and most sought after faces for sports television. Her will and honor to not only be accurate in...
Why you take me up this high? Just to put a hole in my parachute So I would fall for you...
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The tiny digital numbers resting on the top of my phone screen were barely visible as it faintly vibrated in a chosen pattern while it rested on the marble countertop in the chilled space. The hallow whispers of the rippling wind and the subtle scent of the morning dew weren't a potent enough match to sooth the furnace within my form.
Every movement, whenever I had enough strength to make them or not, felt like the greatest task assigned to me as tension nipped and pulled at every muscle that seemed to be taking its time awakening. With a slouch forward and through blurred vision, I caught a short glimpse of myself in the mirror before my head drooped enough for my chin to reach the surface of my chest.
My whimpers were in a battle with the silence I yearned for and the never-ending flow of fluid seeping down my bare cheeks weakened me beyond a broken state that I'd ever want to see or experience myself in. Emmy night aside, I've shed tears here and there whenever life or my emotions unexpectedly threw a couple of curve balls in my direction, but I haven't had any gut wrenching sobs since I was finally locked inside of my bedroom and allowed myself to mourn after my father's services.
I spent two weeks wordlessly tending to my mother and Celeste's essentials while trying to be the strength that he expected me to be for the both of them. I coached myself into believing that I had no time to weep, but as everyone always warns you, the grief doesn't truly make its crucial mark until the social aspect of it is all over, people are now back to their regular lives, and the phone calls have slowed down.
In the days that it became only the three of us in the house, we retreated to our bedrooms and remained in them unless there was something beyond those four walls that we absolutely needed. It was then that I heavily grieved for him. Though painful, I am now at the point of acceptance.
Shamel was nothing to grieve over. In our final split, I needed some time to adjust to the lack of his presence though I was content with it. I suppose when you're in a relationship with someone and you've been cohabitating for an extended period of time, you go through a period of withdrawal no matter how that person made you feel. It wasn't until I moved out of that apartment and settled into my current home that I felt a sense of peace in which I marveled in and vowed to never take for granted again.
I broke that vow. I know that now more than ever before.
Yet again, vibrations from my phone captured my attention and I stared at Ben's name while waiting for the screen to alert me of a twelfth missed call and to finally darken in an idle slumber. A large majority of the phone calls happened as I stood in the shower attempting to process every article I read through while sitting up in bed. It was Taylor, who woke me up before my morning alarm had to chance to do so.
