My day starts with waking up with a photo-frame in my arms…
It usually takes me a minute to remember why there’s a photo of you so close to me…
And as soon as it hits me, my life is stripped of colour…

Then there’s the battle of getting dressed and preparing for another day of pretence…
If I’m lucky enough, I’d be given the energy to do a cup of coffee, to light your candle, and to have a morning conversation with you…
And if I’m not, I would continue lying in bed until 5 minutes before I’m expected to take the car, wrestling with you to give me the courage to start my day…

I used to listen to podcasts in the morning ride,
but melancholic songs that remind me of you fill my ears instead…
I try to take the seat next to the back door of our hard-top Toyota,
rest my head against the glass door whilst contemplating the impossible to believe…

Then we reach the office, and I rush outside the car, stopping to greet no one…
For I don’t want the little intimacy we achieved in the car to be ruined by the small talk that comes with morning greetings…
I set my computer outside, get my notebook, bring out the envelope and carefully place your picture on the table, with a quote about loving our birth, our living, and our dying which was written on a small piece of paper and was found in my bag for sometime…
It didn’t make sense until I was told you were gone…

Then comes the morning session of pretence…
Sometimes too difficult to the point that I feel like I can no longer breathe…
And if it gets too unbearable, then I take a cup of coffee and hide behind one of the buildings…
I look to the sky and strike a conversation with you…
And if I am lucky enough, tears would trickle down my face…
I try to limit those to 15 minutes, but sometimes I lose count of time when talking to you…

Lunch hour is by far the best, for I haven’t lost my appetite one bit since you were gone…
Don’t be mad at me, but your brother is still as gluttonous as it can get…
This is followed by more pretence…
I steal glances towards your picture every once in a while,
asking you if I already told you that I love you and that I miss you and that I’m proud of you, very proud of you…
And then comes the ride back home, with more melancholic songs, but this time around I imagine you sitting right next to me, and I try to show you around the claustrophobic roads of Port-au-Prince…
I tell you that now you’re not limited by COVID restrictions or visa requirements or work holiday limits any more…
That you’re with me and that you’ll be with me wherever I go…

And as the car reaches home, I’m the first to rush out, and I run towards my room,
I quickly make some tea, light your candle, put your frame in the comfortable chair, and take the other one, all whilst resting my feet on where you’re supposed to sit…
And we talk…
And you listen, as always…