Life begins when a story begins. But does fate has anything to do with a story? Regardless, this is a story in life where fate has everything to do with.
There are moments when fate intersects with our daily lives. In fact, it is only then, that a motion of pictures starts, setting it in sequences, and the outcomes we would never be able to foresee.
There was a tiny light that glimmered in my life when the whole world walked out. This is the light that I’m going to tell you about.
20th January 2002
The years together had proved me right. He owned my heart but I didn’t say it to him often. Ours was a bond that had withstood the distance, and needed few words. He was a dreamer, who emission what the years ahead would be like.
“I love tomatoes. Can we have some planted next time?”
“Sure baby, in our garden”
And so, that was part of the dream.
3rd July 2005
Here comes the rain,
Raindrops falling on my cold body,
Waking up my soul,
Leaving me empty and lonely,
Was it the rain?
Was it the tears?
I recalled moments together,
Recalled our dreams together,
Dreams he said he’d grant me,
Dreams he said would come true.
I wish I have a warm heart,
To run away from this nightmare,
But coldness fills me again,
For it was not the rain,
But tears from the bottom of my heart.
8th October 2005
Things are as different as day and night right now. I had never felt so weak, so unequal to any task. For all intents and purposes, my world was finally crumbling around me. I was totally undone by what had happened. If loving him would bring him back, what I had felt would have done it far long ago. It was as though, I felt, that if I had played the film back often enough in my mind, it would end differently than it had.
I break into agonized sobs often. Sometimes, I stare right through the wall, trying to reach behind those words that I've stuck on. But most of the time, I only sat with unseeing eyes.
'' Are u alright babe?'' I looked at her with immeasurable pain, and she asked no more. I was too bereft at the moment to even cry.'' For years, he was like an integral part of me, growing. What am I going to do?'' Holding me close, her voice trailed off, '' People just survive it. It’s more than common.''
We both said nothing, and the room finally grew dark. I was not only emotionally exhausted but also disorientated. With a warm hug, I broke into tears again. I had to go on, I thought.
I had no choice. Because no matter how grief-stricken I am, and had always been, it wouldn’t bring him back.
23rd December 2007
It is difficult to forget, indefinitely. I had always wanted to write him this, "At 55, I would still be beautiful, and he had always been careful in keeping our romance fresh. I'd let go my white hair and always keep it at an angle where it would show off the delicate features I have. And then, he would tell me that I was as pretty as I'd been when we met".
With the blues he had put me through; one can’t help but wonder,
“Is he this important?’’.
“General wisdom has it that there isn’t just one person for each of us, but for me, he was the one.”
It’s a brutal reminder of how ephemeral love was, how quickly interrupted, how fragile of relationships. And the message has not gone unheard.
My mind wandered back to times earlier, happier times. My heart pounded overwhelmingly. As tears are soaking the edge of the pillow I got hold off, I let out a sigh.
A sign of relief. A sign of waking up.
To forget, we move on. And I did.
Over the years, I can only say this.
‘The heart does heal and you will love like this again, except that when you do, you’ll deny that you have loved like this before.’