Every time she’d grab her pen to soak papers with ink that described that one person, her pen suspends and the chaos of words in her mind would turn into blank emptiness. “Good at expressing” her friends say, but not about him. That may be because, in addition to grief, her heart was filled with years-supressed anger. The anger was resulted by their separation, and that he never said goodbye. Many people left, and many replaced those who left. Some said goodbye while they were in her life and then revealed their true color, some just walked away. In spite all that, she just needed his goodbye. Her anger is only expressed in her dreams when she meets him, and screams her lungs out at him, asking why he lied about his departure, where has he been hiding all that time from her? He would remain quiet. “We thought you were dead!” she would say. He would, as she is used to in all her dreams, walk away without response.
Whenever she was asked about him, she would dodge the topic smartly, never wanting to talk about him. Her friends eventually understood, and never mentioned him in their conversations-no matter how intimate. It was that period of time when all her dreams, all the movies and books were whispering to her softly, that she needed to make him surface in that ocean of burial she carried within. She responded to the whispers, and spent a lot of time contemplating through the man he was, remembering his character, as he was the kind of man who stood against vanity with a sword of modesty. A man who would spend his lunch hours having a meal on the bare floor with only a single plastic fork with those who were not subject to respect in a classist society, while his colleagues would dine in the most expensive restaurants. He would converse with a sanitary worker, wave and smile as he ends the conversation, while many may pass them by without paying the slightest attention to them. A man, who would most definitely light the darkness of one’s heart; a man of Faith. She always thought, that if Good had a face in the battle against evil, it would be his.
She decided, “I will bring him back to life”. How was that ever possible? Well, she would give her effort and energy to contain all his virtues, and seed them in others’ hearts.
She had always thought herself weak grieving him, she realized she was wrong. And that she hasn’t lost him; he is within her.
*Death only means the person’s absence from our minds.