Love Letters to my Deceased Wife
It has been three months, nine days and twelve hours since you took your last breath. Even though I haven’t been able to convince myself of the fact that you aren’t here anymore, my organs somehow got whiff of the news; my heart has been beating strangely out of sync these days and my lungs seem to be inhaling a bit extra- probably for you…
Even with you gone, I’ve been doing the same things that I used to do before- just without you by my side; but that has made all the difference- nothing made sense anymore. The flowers aren’t as pretty as it used to be, its fragrance now feels repulsive even. The breeze doesn’t carry the aroma of romance anymore; coffee is now nothing more than a brown liquid. When the raindrops make a sudden appearance now, I don’t feel like wetting my soul. I am not sure if the earth still rotates and whether it still whirls around the burning star- and frankly, I don’t care; coz I don’t get to share it with you anymore.
However, I’ve been visiting this therapist for a couple of weeks. The therapist has got the same first name as you- she is also very kind and sweet like you, she actually reminds me of you, at least some of ‘you’. And then I start missing you and the weekly sessions started becoming more of a painful exercise- but I pushed ahead.
It was her who suggested that I write some letters for you, even though you won’t get to read it now. It has been too long since I’ve written anything other than numbers for my company account and my name, compressed and disguised as my signature. I wish I had written letters to you before- you would have loved them. Not because the letters being especially elegant, but the effort I put in to try and make it look so.
Well, I wish I had done a lot more for you than just writing letters. Only if I knew before that our days together were counted, I would have not let you out of my sight; I would have stayed awake all-night-long just staring at you, I would have spent a fortune just to brighten the smile on your face even if by a candela, I would have told you how much I loved you a million times more. But then fate is a cruel trickster, ain’t he?
I still think about you all the time. At times, someone would catch me smiling on my own, and they’d assume that I have got over your departure. But they fail to notice my eyes directed towards one of the many memories we made together- the hypermarket debacle is one of my all time favourites. I still have that plastic apple we bought that day- safe and secure in my bedroom vault. Whenever I take a glimpse at it, I see your embarrassed face in its glossy reflection, and it cracks me up every single time. But, then it fades away slowly and I am reminded of your absence.
I thought of myself as a strong and capable man- but now I realize that the strength and capability came from you and I was just a man lucky to have been married to a strong and capable woman. Now that I’ve lost that source, I have become weak and incapable of leading a productive life.
I always used to pray that I live long. I wish I had also prayed that I die- that I die before you, coz I can’t imagine death being more painful than living without you.
I miss everything about you, even the things that I kind of hated- like the way you pinched me in the back when you got angry or the recurrent missed calls I’d receive in between an important meeting. I honestly check my phone every ten minutes out of habit now, hoping to read ‘my better half’ on the half-broken screen of my mobile you gifted me on our third wedding anniversary. But, there are no calls or messages any more- well, not from you; and that was all that mattered.
I am not gonna lie- I’ve seriously thought about it, about ending it. But I am just not sure if I am gonna meet with you afterwards or would it be utter emptiness. If it’s the later, I don’t want that. If there is no possible way for me to get in contact with you again, I’d at least like to cherish your memories, as long as I can, as painful as it might be.
I’ve never been a believer in miracles, as you obviously know. But looking back, me finding my way to you was nothing short of a miracle- and I’d disagree with anyone who says it’s not. I know it’s absurd to believe that another miracle would lead me back to you- but I choose to believe; coz otherwise my life doesn’t make any sense.