Misery was desire. Hope was the creator of hopelessness. “Take it one day at a time,” she trained herself. But sometimes too much happened in a day. And then there were the times when too little happened. “I guess it’s about taking in every moment,” she concluded.
“Time will heal everything,” they’d said. She knew that sounded too easy. Some people wondered why she took so long when others forgot so soon. “The healing process is unique for all,” she’d reply. Nobody was satisfied with her progress but she didn’t care. The day she realised that she had moved on, she defined healing as new habit that we are forced into.
When the year began,
You were breathing next to me.
When the month began,
You were holding my hand in yours .
When the week began,
You were talking about the future.
When the day began,
You were waiting for your last breath.
And when the moment arrived,
You were making us cry together.
It wasn’t easy being the oldest. She often wondered about her expiry date. Watching two much younger siblings transitioning to ashes had torn her heart. “Enjoy your life,” said her friends. She tried to follow their simple advice, living with her memories. From the little utensils that they’d play with, to the painful last days. Was it guilt for being alive? She longed to be with them again.
It pricked her like a needle, but the pain was different. It was sudden like the needle and a tiny stab at first. Then it felt bigger and greater than she could describe to any other person. It was no new discovery that grief hit people hard. In fact, she had expected difficulty as she thought often of life and death. As she cried tears of the loudest variety, screaming to God or whoever else was responsible for this fate, she knew that her childhood was over.
She had seen her just last night. She’d been silent with her pain. Still, she allowed her to give a light back massage. The young niece tried to let her fingers do their work, while her eyes kept on filling with tears. As she rubbed her back softly, she looked at the bald head with despair. When she was done, she kissed the bald head without knowing that it would be their last touch. That night, the phone rang, and she knew it was the call that they were dreading since her diagnosis.
My eyes light up when I see you alive.
The fear that I live with turns into happiness.
As you run over to me like a child happy to see his mother,
I thank fate for giving us another day together.
Too many of you have left me too early.
Too many murdered.
I never take our love for granted.