It’s been eight months and counting and the ache in my heart is still as fresh as yesterday.
Sometimes, I need to make sense of all these emotions that live in me like a second skin.
Looking to burst out in an uncontrollable heave.
And then I will myself to forget…momentarily what it feels like to have loved and lost.
To have had and held.
To have cherished and still lost.
Some days, when the world is blue and the jokes are funny, my laughter rings out for miles.
A pitiful sound wrenched forcefully from a broken heart.
Noticed by a few, who’ve walked this road before.
The sound of agony!
They say that time heals.
They. The Ignorant.
They who bandy words like serfs.
I ask again: Does time carry around a salve, a bandage and a needle?
If no, then time will only serve as a reminder of what you could have been.
What you could have achieved.
I write to you today, because these random words just won’t stay away.
They’ve been running up and down my left hemisphere.
Seeking to confuse whoever reads this.
My friend. My sister.
I admit I have always feared something would happen to take you away from me.
But I never thought the separation would be this final.
You, me and a thin veil between your world and mine.
Before this, I had never experienced the pain of loss. Do you remember? I told you this more often than I count now.
But in that oh so cute way of yours, you shrugged away my worries, certain in your christian belief that I feared for naught.
You, nwachineke had no business dying when your work on earth was still at its infant phase.
So when the news of your demise reached me, I thought I could be strong.
I thought I could tough it out.
But I just wasn’t prepared.
I miss you everyday.
Even now, I still believe that if love alone could have saved you, you never would have died.
That is how much you meant to me.
Kunbi, I loved you before the plane crash, and I love you still after death.
It’s been almost a year since I lost you and it isn’t much easier now than it was then. But I cling to the thought that with your new wings, you could fly anywhere to be with me.
Ps: I wrote this, for myself, for Peter, for Momo and everyone who has had to deal with death. They can hear us. They are with us. Forever.
Happy Valentine’s Day.