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I feel guilty about crying for her.

I didn’t know her that well when she was alive, and  I probably wouldn’t miss her that much now that she was gone.

But I cried.

I knew people who would miss her much, much more. People who would actually feel her loss deeply. They deserved to shed their tears for her because their feelings and memories were more genuine than mine were. I didn’t really deserve to  cry. But I did.

I guess I could try to explain why I cried. It’s not very difficult actually. I cried because Shreeyal deserved tears.

There are some people you can hate for no reason, and there are some people you like for no reason. We never grew close but we had our moments. I honestly cannot remember one memory of her being mean or cranky or throwing a tantrum or being demanding. She was good and the world is now short of a good soul. And God knows, we need more good souls in the world. Good souls like her only leave the world a better place than they found it. They touch the lives of all the people they met.

I also cried because it was scary. It wasn’t like I didn’t know what Death was. I studied Psychology and our textbooks outlined the difference between sadness and grief, the signs and symptoms of Depression and how to work with people who were suspended in perpetual sadness. I’d read morbid books and watched tragic movies and shows were a character dies. I’d cried rivers for them. But while I’d felt sad there, or understood sadness theoretically, what I felt now was a new combination of emotions. I felt sad, and I felt scared. A person I knew was dead doing something I (and many of my friends) did. Not frequently, but at some point or the other nevertheless. She died because she was traveling in her car with her friends at a high speed. Everyone does that at some point. And that’s what scary. She died doing something mundane. Something no teenager thinks twice about doing. A living, kicking, thriving soul vanished into nothingness doing something you or I would do. It was scary.

It was scary how her friends and family and everyone that knew her just woke up one fine day to hear that she was no more. It was like a tiny drop of information that was dropped into the otherwise still lives of people, then forming ripples of change and imbalance into the ocean of people that surrounded her. Not physically, but mentally or emotionally. The wave that ripple caused was ginormous. Imagine the number of calls that were made, the tears that were shed, the ‘you’ll be okays’ that were told and the memories that were relived. Then imagine the innumerable times that her friends and family will meet in the future. The laughs they will share with a pang of sadness, the memories they will make with a hint of tears and the nights they will live with a twinge of nostalgia. The hole that won’t be filled because no other person can fill that Shreeyal – sized hole.

Its scary.

And so I cried my heart out for Shreeyal before getting my shit together and calling the people who also would need to cry their hearts out.