future

I stop counting the months and days, the hours and second since your departure. It hurts. I made a point to myself that I will talk about you with dignity and pride, with happiness not sorrow, with what we had not what we missed out - the moments together, not the eternity of separation. I remember the first time I did not cry mentioning your name. I remember every tremble of my lips, every ache in my heart - and my pale pale finger tips pressing tight on my skin. 

It was fine. It has been fine and it will be. It came to me as a surprise when I realized this - not too long ago: I no longer fear death. It was not about the pain, not about what is left behind, but rather, I regret the future - beautiful faces I will not have the chance to see, love I will not have the chance to experience, life as the whole I do not have the chance to cherish. I wonder if you ever thought about the possible future. And in my most private moment, I cry. 

I don't miss you in the rain, in loneliness or in fear. I miss you the most when the sun shines gorgeously casting magic spells that set fire to my desire. I want to soar. I miss you the most when I am on top of the world, when I am proud and happy. I wish you were here - now - experience this - LIFE - as it is - first snowflake touching the tip of my nose - first summer rain drop signalling the long holiday - Ashland in Halloween - and I - me, grown up yet not forgetting my dream - my love. I never forget you.

I miss you the most, when I am in class with my students, whose eyes sparkle - I miss you the most when one of my autistic learners came to me after class and asked if it was OK that he read me his poem - and before I could say YES, YES, YES PLEASE - he already finished all the lines. I miss you so much then, when I am close to tears of happiness. 

I wish you had seen this future - my presence and chose to stay. 

It would have been really nice, I guess.

would have been perfectly wonderful

to fight anything and everything for the future - for this chance of kissing through the pain.

my hands are cold, dear. and it's cold outside. how have you been?