People say as time passes, memories fade and their intensity diminishes. But then why am I experiencing quite the opposite?
With every passing day, I miss you more. As each day adds to the 27th of November 2016, your memories grow stronger and stronger, and harder to shrug aside. And the harder it is to live without you.
Right after the final ‘cut-off’, what followed was anger, and more anger, which survived a couple of hours. And these hours slowly moulded the anger into something similar to grief, pain, anguish.
What followed a few days later was- peace. A feeling I had long longed for. Peace. No fights, no hurt, no abusing, no accusing, no blade and no blood. And I thought life was better. Despite which, pain still hovered in the background and refused to leave. But I kept my focus adjusted on the peace.
At that time it was easier to push your thoughts away, to divert my mind, to lure myself with small luxuries of reading, watching funny movies, bombarding my tympanic membanes with happy hip hop music, hanging around with friends, indulging in random acts of kindness, hitting the gym, joining some dance classes, and all those temporary positive-giving-vibes-acitivities you come up with.
The grief of your loss still hung there in the background, constantly, never budging. But I kind of erected a wall, more like a translucent membranous wall between that world containing grief and my world of fake shallow luxuries. A wall in whose direction my eyes often strayed.
Maybe that easy phase continued for what seemed like a month, or more, or less, I don’t know. I have not been keeping track of time. And then it began. The cold gelatinous wall slowly started to thaw, and before I knew it, it started giving away, for the force on other side of the wall was much too big to hold for too long. It started propelling little bits of memories in the direction of my ‘peaceful’ world erected of fragile glass, which gradually began to crack.
I am sitting with a group of friends at the cafeteria, trying to join in for a good laugh, and suddenly I am quiet, I am hit by one of those small fragments that come hurling at me from the other side of the fence. And your face is before my eyes. Those eyes. That voice. And the way you said my name. The last meeting. The goodbye kiss on my forehead at the airport, the sadness in your eyes, the tears in mine. The way you were still gazing at me when I — I shake my head, God I must stop, put on my memory-proof jacket and bring myself back to earth, and join in the shallow laughter.
* * *
Three months minus two days from the final-cut-off-day, the peace is long gone. There is no wall anymore. The fake world of fractured glass has fallen apart. Like the world on the opposite side of the wall were a giant black hole, and the small little world of small little luxuries pulled inside the black hole with a vigorous gravitational pull.
All that remains now is a constant pain, combined with an indolent numbess.
I think of you every day. Almost every ritual of the day somehow traces a link back to you. I make no efforts to put on my memory-proof jacket anymore. The little luxuries long forgotten. I set my tethers loose. I make no attempts to land myself back on earth. I let myself float. I am swirling in this black hole, whirling deeper and deeper, not knowing where I am headed. And I don’t care. I have closed my eyes. The Black Hole is You .