Dear
Love,
Every
morning that I wake up without you by my side, I wake up as though in parts,
leaving something of me behind on the pillow, on the sheet, that has my curves twisting and turning all through
the night. The arms extending to an empty bed, hoping to feel at my finger’s
edge, the rush of brushing against your skin, but returning empty, paralyzed in
an unknown dread. I wonder if I fear more the absence of you or the absence of
myself in all my presence.
The
body rises to do its chores while the mind drifts to a weary sleeplessness, a queer
numbness to disappointment or elation, although the mouth animates into automated
frowns and smiles. It is like walking with a hole in the heart, whose margins
threaten to extend on every side, to eventually take the shape of me. My quivering
hands hold the pots and pans, till I sit back and clench them in a silent
anguish, for they miss your fingers clasped within. I light the fire under my
tea, even as my own slowly whimpers dying within me.
I
wash my face with cold water, hoping to break the reverie of your thoughts that
barge in one after another so seamlessly that I just watch, helpless, letting
each one walk all over me. I look up at my face in the mirror and don’t see me
no matter how much I scrunch my eyes. I see you, I feel you. And with the
trickling droplets perhaps, shed a tear or two.
Another day, another strife,
and the same life but without you!
I
pretty up my face, fill color on my lips, I wear the clothes that once froze
your gaze to me. I go out, seem brave, show I’ve moved on but waiting within
for the mask to become me. I shut tight my eyes at every little thing that
reminds me, of you, of being yours ~ the steaming cup of black coffee, the
fresh flower on the vase placed near me, the post-it notes on the to-do board,
with yours missing conspicuously. I wipe the ketchup edging my mouth with a
sorry napkin, missing your lips tasting it off me.
I
move through the day knowing not if I am glad it has ended or sad that begins
now the night, the returning to an empty house, no welcome smiles, no gentle
rub of tired shoulders, no I’ll-join-you-in-the-shower fights. No putting me up
on the kitchen shelf while flour scatters in the air so wild. No steaming
kisses, no cuddles in bed, no blanket over my sleeping body covering me from
the cold night.
Another
day, another strife, and the same life but without you!
Yours
piningly,
Me.
(I can’t imagine how brave
are the souls that move on in life after losing a loved one. I shuddered as I wrote
this, thankful in the same breath of whatever’s mine. Also strength and love to
those who walk tall in such a life, may love find you again soon.)
