The Art of Losing The Ones

Time doesn’t heal wounds, we do.

Letting go is always the hardest part of a separation. But you know what’s even worse? It’s the little things. Years after the hurricane passed, when we think we're already much grounded, and then we manage to find little pieces about them scattered all over the place while they’re no longer here to listen to our story, about how we remember them along the day. And to add it up, we’ll slowly forget them. Their voice, their warmth, their clingy behavior, how they frown when they’re upset, or how they giggle over stupid jokes. It’s heartbreaking, and I blame human fragility for this.

To my beloved ones, I just want to tell you that I miss you every time I can’t perfectly tie my shoelace, I miss you the exact time I can’t remember the name of my favorite snack, I miss you between my sleepless nights, in my serene time, in front of happy days, witty jokes, and beautiful landscapes. Rainy days, sunny days, days when I’m perfectly fit, other days when I catch a cold, inside the fairy tales, colorful fireworks, and prequels of our favorite movies.

And it kills me, it tears me apart, it burns my throat from trying too hard of resisting my grief. When you go, you carried a great part of me away with you but I thank you as well for living inside me forever, deep down my core memories.