Day before yesterday, I was sitting at home just going through pictures and I came across the one that I took of him in the ambulance. The last I ever saw him. I wasn’t looking for it… it just popped up on the screen as I was scrolling. And there it was… a sobbing fit. I had been unusually weepy anyways, some emotional arguments at work, and his lifeless face was the last thing I needed to see. But there it was, and there was nothing to do but cry it out.
I relived all of it again, including my desperate urge to hold on to a piece of him. Something, anything… a lock of hair, a pinch of his ashes. Finally, exhausted I fell asleep. The next day was his mom’s birthday and I needed to go to their place. So I don’t know why I undertook some cleaning in the morning. There was a drawer of mine that I hadn’t opened since he died. It was a place where he sometimes kept his wallet and often his hairbrush. As I started emptying it to arrange it, at the bottom I found some strands of hair, mixed with dried flowers. The flowers were remnants of temple offerings that he kept in his wallet.
So I carefully took out everything and then took a flat paint brush. I got to work for the next hour, separating each strand of hair from the flower dust and finally I got a pinch of hair; enough to put in a locket. I’ve already asked a friend to make me one. It just goes to show he’s watching out for me. When things are going downhill, he sends me something to cheer me up a bit. How I wanted something of him, and now I have it!
And then today my mom and sis came down. Mom brought the package of correspondence I had asked her to get. These were letters and cards G had sent me years ago. Some dating 2001. As I sat looking through each piece, some made me laugh and I almost saw him sitting with me and reading old stuff and laughing. And then this one stack of handwritten cards came out. On a bunch of white card sheets G had written our story. Starting from the year 2000 till 2007, when he’d given the stack to me. Each card a memorable day, a milestone, or an important thought. As I looked through them I could see so many of the stories I’ve shared here already. Stories of the bike rides, of our first kiss, and even the troubles in our relationship.
Card by card the story unfolded, and the memories of what we had together. He called me his angel 🙂 when now he is mine. Where the letters – his declarations that he misses me – made me grin, the cards were what unleashed the tears. But I could not cry to my hearts content. I’ve stored them away for now, to look at another day. And perhaps I will share his version of the story with you – in pictures.
G. I miss you so much. Please come back… We’ll do the same crazy stuff again, we’ll never take anything for granted, we’ll never work more than needed for food and a roof. We’ll travel more, and party more, and meet more friends and make new ones. I’ll not even crib about your smoking. Just come back, please.