Something of Myself

These are the things that you missed...and I just wanted to set the records straight, so that if you bumped into me some years down the line, we could just begin the conversation where we left.

But then I thought if I put it over here, you'd be a bit miffed - ours was a special relationship and it will always be. So try as I may, I won't be able to unpack the stuff before all and sundry.

Suffice to say, you've missed a lot and you were missed all the way. I wish you were here. I would need so much from you. Your smile, your laughter, your tears, your voice, your smell, your touch, your being you, your being tough, your being annoyed, your being sentimental, your being different, your being exclusive, your being unique, and many other sides of you is what I miss the most. But then, somewhere I have convinced myself that you are with me always. Within. Inside. Away from the rest. Only for my consumption. Feeding my desires, backing my back-up plans, and springing up like mushrooms in the face of adversity. You are the reason I am witnessing everything that you are missing.

Ironic. I am not melancholic. Just this: every corner, every inch, every singular detail seems incomplete without you. Even my name. My identity. The very words that etch the 'I' and the 'Me' and the 'Us' to be...I hope you are listening, somewhere, just like I feel you around me.

Please note that you left not one, but two widows behind. They wait, till this day, for your return, knowing fully well that it is not to be. But hoping that you will pass by them, like a stranger who wears a familiar perfume, and smells like God.