To have Loved and lost...

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.)