Chhori

 

Four months have gone by. 

I no longer wake up hoping it is her I will wake up to. But the heaviness that came upon me in the days right after losing her stays with me. I wake up with a heaviness, which no longer looks for her familiar face around the house. 

I walk up to her portrait once a day and say hi, like she would hear me. She doesn't. But there's a feeble hope in seeking permanence. In that hope is the longing to put my arms around her again and to say thank you for all the love I received. Only, now I can't.

You know how we keep hoping to find love? I had hoped for it all my life without knowing I had all the love I deserved right in front of me in the form of this girl. And she loved me-- tenderly, fiercely. sometimes with irritation and anger, but she loved me.

I no longer know how to write about anything because I don't know how to write about her. This one, who I have loved the most.