The year had started with renewed hope;
despite all the agony and pain that all previous years – who also started with hope – have brought.
The first day passed uneventful,
The second was, until midday when I received several text messages and a phone call that altered the course of my life…
Since I’ve been told that you were gone,
life has been stripped bare of meaning…
Losing you was not the first heavy trauma that I had to deal with,
and as I’ve learnt, wasn’t the last for a while,
for it was followed by another close death,
but never has an event managed to get through me in this way.
I don’t talk to you every night like I used to during the honeymoon phase of grief,
but every now and then, and especially when things are tough, I still find solace in striking up a conversation with you.
I don’t wake up at 3 in the morning anymore to remind myself that you are gone, and to tell you that I love you,
but your photo-frame is still by my bed-side, and it moves with me as I go,
even for short-trips.
I don’t know if I would ever comprehend your loss,
but I miss you.
A year is gone and God knows how many more will pass before I rid myself of the pain of this life and finally meet you,
but I love you.
Things change quickly and I wonder whether you’d still consider me a brother with all the confusion that I’m getting myself in,
but I’m proud of you, so proud of you.
I still need you, brother.
Don’t leave me.