It was devastating to know that you’ll loss your utmost angel, who had protected you with all her life, sharing her every breath in the spirit of care and share and who had struggled between life and death, pain and joy to gamble for a little pride of joy.
It was a sad experience. For the bundles of joy to learn that their angel had already coming to the end of her journey in life. Sighting her at the verge of the cliff and to decide to let her moved forward or the pull her back. Given the little time to decide between letting her move on or hold her back to where she should belong.
In brought upon a sudden sense, if this happen to me. What can the decision be? I am thinking of a figure, so familiar, so fine, so dear and so close to my heart and soul. He has been that part of me. The part of my life for which I always say with a threat, “Take him away from me and see that half of my sanity will be gone.”
I am not his favourite girl nor apple of his eyes. But I definitely hold a special position somewhere in his heart. For who always clean up the mess in that room which looks like it has been rippled by a thousand twisters, who would have bother to wait up when I am not home passing the time I should have always be? Who would be the one who has nagged time and again at the mountain of folded laundry waiting to be hanged or kept away in the even huge mountain waiting behind the door of the petite wardrobe? Who would be patiently arranged those scattered pieces of papers and loads of books around the house? Who would have shared the comments about people, animals and the world while thinking hard to respond to the cynical thoughts and remarks in the most groomed intelligence limit by his level in the education?
He’s SPECIAL without any exception. He holds that special figures in my eyes, both the masculine and feminine. We have had occasional fights and that even occasional misunderstanding. But then, we could always come to some egoistic consensus and we make up over that meals or the sudden idea of a journey somewhere.
Thinking about his well-being for the past decade, always put me in fear that I might have to some to the same situation which I had just witness. His health is slowly failing, holding on only to the prescriptions and the constant monitoring. He’s no longer that suave, young figure who filled my first memory. He’s balding, that I can see. He’s accumulating wrinkles and that too I can see. But I can still see that same smile and that shining shade in his eyes, when I was about two and he greeted me with that same smile and that same shine and picked me up from the cot into his safe arms and I can still feel that warmth.
I remember as a young child, I will be woken up from my peaceful slumber into his arms and to the bath. Facing the window and the stillness of the morning, I would say I miss him. Asked him where he was before I was put to bed. Did he miss me? Did he know that I had been good or bad the day before? Did he know why the days are always bright and the nights are always dark? Did he know why the water was cold and why God did not create some magic, like allowing the water temperature naturally according to my needs? Did he know that I was thinking about him on some particular instances and hope he appeared at the door suddenly?
I remembered him putting the powder over my petite body while I still mumbled asking why I need to be woken so early each morning and why I need to have that cold morning shower. I remembered the plate of two finely, prepared half boiled eggs and a cup of hot malt or chocolate drink. No thank you. Just eating it slowly and waiting for him to be ready for work in during that early mornings. When he was ready, I stood my the door and waved him goodbye and the same reminder each day, “Please don’t work overtime!”.
The memory had passed and I am getting much older now. Almost married, hopefully. But that other man holds less special place in my heart. He’s my unforgettable and the reason I live. I had almost gone half insane with longing in my heart when he way away doing the pilgrimage. I cried over the phone wanting him to be home. Hugged his pillow and the shirt he last worn before that journey and counting the days to his return.
If I should learn to let my angel go, should I learn to let him go? When I know until this extent, it’s still hard to let go.
I am,
Tyro
It was a sad experience. For the bundles of joy to learn that their angel had already coming to the end of her journey in life. Sighting her at the verge of the cliff and to decide to let her moved forward or the pull her back. Given the little time to decide between letting her move on or hold her back to where she should belong.
In brought upon a sudden sense, if this happen to me. What can the decision be? I am thinking of a figure, so familiar, so fine, so dear and so close to my heart and soul. He has been that part of me. The part of my life for which I always say with a threat, “Take him away from me and see that half of my sanity will be gone.”
I am not his favourite girl nor apple of his eyes. But I definitely hold a special position somewhere in his heart. For who always clean up the mess in that room which looks like it has been rippled by a thousand twisters, who would have bother to wait up when I am not home passing the time I should have always be? Who would be the one who has nagged time and again at the mountain of folded laundry waiting to be hanged or kept away in the even huge mountain waiting behind the door of the petite wardrobe? Who would be patiently arranged those scattered pieces of papers and loads of books around the house? Who would have shared the comments about people, animals and the world while thinking hard to respond to the cynical thoughts and remarks in the most groomed intelligence limit by his level in the education?
He’s SPECIAL without any exception. He holds that special figures in my eyes, both the masculine and feminine. We have had occasional fights and that even occasional misunderstanding. But then, we could always come to some egoistic consensus and we make up over that meals or the sudden idea of a journey somewhere.
Thinking about his well-being for the past decade, always put me in fear that I might have to some to the same situation which I had just witness. His health is slowly failing, holding on only to the prescriptions and the constant monitoring. He’s no longer that suave, young figure who filled my first memory. He’s balding, that I can see. He’s accumulating wrinkles and that too I can see. But I can still see that same smile and that shining shade in his eyes, when I was about two and he greeted me with that same smile and that same shine and picked me up from the cot into his safe arms and I can still feel that warmth.
I remember as a young child, I will be woken up from my peaceful slumber into his arms and to the bath. Facing the window and the stillness of the morning, I would say I miss him. Asked him where he was before I was put to bed. Did he miss me? Did he know that I had been good or bad the day before? Did he know why the days are always bright and the nights are always dark? Did he know why the water was cold and why God did not create some magic, like allowing the water temperature naturally according to my needs? Did he know that I was thinking about him on some particular instances and hope he appeared at the door suddenly?
I remembered him putting the powder over my petite body while I still mumbled asking why I need to be woken so early each morning and why I need to have that cold morning shower. I remembered the plate of two finely, prepared half boiled eggs and a cup of hot malt or chocolate drink. No thank you. Just eating it slowly and waiting for him to be ready for work in during that early mornings. When he was ready, I stood my the door and waved him goodbye and the same reminder each day, “Please don’t work overtime!”.
The memory had passed and I am getting much older now. Almost married, hopefully. But that other man holds less special place in my heart. He’s my unforgettable and the reason I live. I had almost gone half insane with longing in my heart when he way away doing the pilgrimage. I cried over the phone wanting him to be home. Hugged his pillow and the shirt he last worn before that journey and counting the days to his return.
If I should learn to let my angel go, should I learn to let him go? When I know until this extent, it’s still hard to let go.
I am,
Tyro
