To all my readers,

My feelings are so torn, but yet all the same. In grief of losing my dear father whom I loved so dearly, I stand before the new life that this brought. My mom has remarried, it’s all so soon. I need my time to think and to let my feelings have their time to grow naturally. There was no time for that, because only a month later my uncle grabs his chance and takes my father’s place and my mother’s hand in marriage. His words were harsh when he spoke them, “Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen.” (1.1.8) For me there is no sense in this, how could my own mother do that to her own husband and son? She remarries not only just after two month after the funeral, but to my uncle by blood. “But two months dead, nay not so much, not two, so excellent a king, that was to this hyperion to a satyr, so loving to my mother,” (1.2.138-140) They loved each other so dearly, my parents. They were happy, or at least that’s what I thought. Maybe my mother didn’t love my father that way; it was just too complex for her to do anything about it. What if my whole life was a lie? The family I grew up in is all broke up now, and nothing will ever be the same.   

Sometimes I try to look at it from my uncle’s perspective, but I can’t let myself feel empathy for him. He killed his brother and yet he seems to not have a single care about that. I know he keep talking about how we lost our King and it’s all a part of the nature how things work, but it’s natural to be in grief and sorrow, but I can’t see that in my uncles eyes. “Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother’s death, the memory be green, and that is us befitted to bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom.” (1.2.1-3) he said to the people gathered one day. He looks pleased, like this is how he wanted things to go.

How can this be right in any way? Pain, that’s what he should feel. I try to find reasonable explanations for what happened, anything that can make sense, but it can’t. What made him so envy of his brother? I thought he was a good guy, someone my father and I could trust someone who appreciated what we did for him. There is so much anger inside of me now, I want to get it out there and be mad at the world for letting something like this go its way. How can I live with this feeling, knowing the truth? “O, my prophetic soul! My uncle?” (1.2.40-41) Does my mother know that her husband took his brother’s life, took her son’s fathers life?  I’ve always known there were trouble and things done wrong in this world, but I would not guess that family like this could put their own selfishness in front of their family’s happiness and life’s. For me there is no answer to this. There is only pure hate and gruesomeness.

 

Coping with his hasn’t been easy. I’ve prayed for a response, a sign or something to keep me going and holding my head up. Right now it seems impossible though. For anybody who’s lost their father, they know it isn’t easy, because a father’s role in a young’s sons’ life is significant. Some days I don’t see why there is no reason to go on, and continue this life.  “Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, nor customary suits of solemn black, nor windy suspiration of forced breath, nor, the fruitful river in the eye.” (1.2.77-80)

I thank you all for listening to me, it’s rough now and life isn’t easy. We’ll have to see what happens next.

- Hamlet