For all the souls mother nature took from us way too soon and it was way too late to stop the craters’ holes forming inside.
I still get that sinking feeling when someone mentions you. The fact that your shadows are no longer lingering on the person next to you on the bus or that my brain will soon start forgetting how your face looked like when you talked about the countries that you loved.
Your smiles will soon start to fade and I hate the truth so much that I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. I don’t think I’ll ever accept it till I understand life’s unkind mother nature. Till I comprehend the meaning of unreturned departure.
I still shiver at the thought of you not being around. Other than making me sad, I just don’t understand. ‘Cause it’s like my mind is slowly catching up with the truth and the longer time passes by the longer I start to be indifferent towards unchanged matter.
I find myself stiffening up at the thought of you being absent. But it’s no longer a dimmed light, it’s become dark. And I’m scared that one day I might actually forget that light was present. But the absence of something doesn’t mean its presence never existed, right?
I’ve been left to be and as all things we leave to be: the bookshelves that were left untouched, the light dust in dimmed out rooms, the voids in people who were never approached, it’s all the same. Things were left to be.
Your absence caused the arrival of unwanted realizations to things with no explanations. So frankly, I can’t admit that wisdom has been bestowed upon me, more like mislead knowledge.
They mentioned you today with our future past memories. Your memory was welcomed with laughter and joy. Smiles from remembering a pleasant day. Your memory welcomed my saddened joys. That the no longer existing human can be talked about and it’ll be fine because time has passed and they say the memories will always last. But time. Time never healed. It only concealed and maybe a bit revealed. Revealed to me what I was trying to ignore this whole time. An ending we’re all bound to yet never seem to really acknowledge wholeheartedly. Concealing a truth so ugly, we claim time as our healer.
I can’t be fine and I promise next time I would be the one to welcome your memory with joy and laughter but for now as everything in life is letting me be, and just as nothing in life was ever meaningful until the very end, I’ll be the everything and nothingness in one’s gleamed eyes about life’s lies. I’ll be those things that you won’t comprehend in life. For now.