I walk along the seashore today, engulfed by sorrow. I always knew that I’d lose you one day, but watching it finally happen tore my heart into two. I’m drunk as I watch the waves swirl and threaten to sweep me into the blue abyss. We often say that moments make life, but I can’t imagine a life without sharing experiences with you. You were my everything. You held me when my friends forsook, and I saw trial after trial. You only wanted the best for me, and put me ahead of your needs, although I didn’t deserve it.

I remember when we visited the cold, blue mountains and climbed winding curve after winding curve. I remember when we held each other then and said, “Nothing will get in our way. We’ll trudge through it all.” I remember you gazing at the mist covered valley with awe in your eyes. I remember your innocence and your strength. I remember your beauty and your resilience.

Life teaches us so much, but the greatest lesson we can learn is to love each other. There were times when I was angry, but your quietude softened my temper. There were times when I was despondent, but your empathy made me hold on. You taught me so much. You saw something in me when everyone else had given up. You changed me and made me realize that chasing reckless ambition will never compare to the beautiful togetherness spent with someone you cherish.

I watch the sunset now, and there is a lonely fishing boat still out. I feel like the fisherman who owns the boat; trying futilely to catch something that isn’t there. The lights of the lighthouse have come on now, and I think about the ships that they guide safely. I, unlike them, will crash against the rocks and make a shipwreck of this life now that you’re no longer here.

Love heals, but it also hurts like hell. When you lose someone who’s given you more than you ever expected; who’s done so much for you; who’s fought for you and sacrificed so much for you, the pain is unbearable.

I remember the mountains again when we walked in that rose garden where I was obsessed with taking pictures, and you were more interested in just enjoying the experience. And it’s the little things like that, that made you.

© Nitin Lalit Murali (2019)

6 Replies to “Loving and losing you”

      1. You’ve told me about Ionesco before; about how you’d sit in a coffee shop and note down the conversations of people, and it’d end up sounding like one of his plays! I must read him one of these days. But then again, reading a play doesn’t really compare to watching a performance.

      2. Yeah – I know – I’m a bit of a stuck record when it comes to Ionesco. “The Bald Prima Donna” is the longest running play in the history of the (Western) world. It opened in Paris in the (I think) mid ’50s and has played every night since. So go see it when you’re next in Paris (a place I’ve never been to).
        Your French “Qui court deux lievres a la fois, n’en prend aucun” reminds me of another line from the same play: “He walked off in two directions at once just to teach his wife a bloody good lesson.” (And now I’ve become boring…)

      3. I wish I see Paris one day. Here they stage boring street plays. And theater and Broadway isn’t popular at all. Maybe it’s different in other parts of the country. I don’t know. I wonder if you’ll write a story about a husband teaching a wife a lesson. Or a wife and a lover perhaps. Or a wife and a mime! You’ve never boring Bruce. I’d rather have few followers who regularly converse with me than a huge set. I won’t know what to do with them!

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