You Are Missing From Me June 25, 2018 – Posted in: Everyday Living

My Darling Somi,

It’s been 1,933 days since death beckoned and you crossed over. Life has never felt the same since you left; at the very least, my world. Over 5 years later I remember the happenings like it was yesterday. The one phone call that changed my life rang just like any other regular call. Whenever people I love call me now, I pick up with hesitation and I pause to hear the happy or sad in their voice before I ease into conversation.

A few weeks ago, I went about picking the most vibrant flowers I could find and then I laid them by the soil where I imagine the skeletal bones of your earth body remain. It was a weird concept to me; to put fresh beautiful flowers on soil that no longer contains the soul of a loved one but I did it all the same. Afterwards, I stood and stared into abyss, thinking of you; from the way you walked, to your dressing, your smile, your guarded laughter, your belief in individuality and purposeful building. I thought about your strengths and your insecurities, your fears and your desires. I thought about the good and the bad. I miss the good and the bad.

I fear that I’m beginning to forget and that at some point I will struggle to remember your voice. Youvsee, I lost my last laptop and with it my most sacred folder ‘Somi’. I lost your face, my letters to you, our memories captured and I broke a little bit more. I’m so sorry that I didn’t learn you more. I find myself trying to remember what your favorite song was or your preferred scent or what you enjoyed eating the most as though somehow if I enjoyed your favorites I could feel you a little closer in me and to me. If I had any inclination towards the idea that death would take you with no notice and I wouldn’t be able to laugh with you or cry by you again, then I would have surely learnt you more so that the clear memory of you will be imprinted in my mind’s eye — forever there, forever clear.

My sweet Somi, how are you? I must ask if there is any consciousness in the space you’ve found yourself in. The one hope I cling on to in all of this is that you’re in a white beautiful space, devoid of earthly hurdles and the constant pursuit of life making sense. It terrifies me to think of after-life and to then imagine energy being applied in the daily soul sailing. I think that life is too hard for death to also be hard. Although, when the time comes for my soul to sail — if we do see in the after-life — I hope there is a recognition and a catching up (if afterlife allows for that), two ghosts reminiscing on life lived and love lost.

I’ve felt you a few times. Like on your birthday last year; Mum and I felt you but Dad didn’t quite believe. He thought we both missed you so much and placed such a heavy significance on the day that the universe shifted a few things so we could feel closer to you. That would be typical of the universe and I’m thankful for that. I have a beautiful portrait of you hanging in my bedroom back home and I catch myself staring at it often. It’s the same one we kept on the table when people came for condolence visits after you passed away. I’m not sure why that picture was selected but it served its purpose I suppose. I realize now that most young people are in family portraits on the walls of their homes but they never have individual portraits of themselves blown up and hung on the wall unless they die young.

The irreversibility of losing you hurts. So rash and so final. At the funeral, they dressed you all in white and elevated you so people could walk around you in circles saying farewell. When I saw the body, my first thought was ‘What a relief, we are burying the wrong person’ as your body had changed to someone I didn’t recognize. Someone we would bury instead of you — and for a while, I consoled myself with the imagination of you eloping to Hawaii and laying by the beach drinking rum out of coconuts all day. I still like to imagine that we buried the wrong Somi.

The worst thing that I’ve ever had to witness in my life was the wooden box with the body being lowered into the 6ft dug ground, it felt so raw and so final. The muscular men that were paid to dig up a rectangle hole for the coffin did so with so much sturdiness; once we had put you in the ground, they yanked up the shovels and began to pour sand in so aggressively until it was levelled — and then they left, as though in a hurry to go to the next funeral to dig up a hole for the next body that had surely gotten cold and bloated. I remember reaching out to the rectangle coffin-shaped hole in the ground almost as if I wanted to help you escape before they poured sand all over you and your dreams.

Sometimes, someone says something and then I say wow that is ‘so me’ but in my heart I believe that my subconscious means to say that is ‘Somi’ because I’ve carried you around with me so much that sometimes the lines blur where I end and you begin.

 I’ve become good at goodbyes since then. Losing you made me a little bit harder, a lot tougher. I would say that one of the toughest things about losing you is the shocking unbelievable way that the clock just kept on ticking. The sun still rose and set, seasons changed, people came and went as though a part of us hadn’t been ripped out and sent six feet under. Life just kept going.

A had his daughter shortly after you went away and since then he’s another child, a boy. N got married to the actual love of her life and now has 2 beautiful daughters, Mum talks about you in that awkward way you and I know but I couldn’t put down in words, Dad never mentions your name because I don’t think that he’s capable of doing so without feeling raw (he broke apart when we lost you) and K has grown into a very fine young man you would have been so proud of. As for me, I’m still living and searching for meaning in everything.

The world has changed, everything is so fast paced and everyone just keeps moving without ever stopping — seeking validation from strangers and doing things for the wrong reasons. I think you would have found it very odd; I would have loved to see you find it very odd.

There is so much to say but no medium to communicate. I also wanted to tell you that I got a tattoo of your name on my skin; I carry you everywhere I go, ink on skin and love in heart. I wish you were here, I wish you had found all you wanted out of life and become all that you needed to be. 5 years later I’m writing to say that I miss you so terribly, we all do.

There is no sane way to end this letter to you, so I’ll just say I love you and tu me manques – you are missing from me.

N.