“And I’ll spread over your concrete heart like wildflowers on a gravestone. Even death will start to grow.”




Just 6 months , 1 day ago . I saw her , unable to see me . I heard a silence so loud from a woman with sword like powerful words. I saw a flyer, on bed , unable to roll . I saw the air that everyone used to breathe around , borrow oxygen . I saw a fighter , fight until she closed her eyes . I saw cancer leave the room with her . I saw pain as constant .
Today I feel the constant need to be strong , the need to be a head-strong WOMAN. Today I feel the need to be who She was . I’ve washed my plate and not left it for the domestic helper to clean it for me. Planned a trip to the Himalayas. And bought some hair colour to streak my hair . Because that woman who lived her life young to the fullest , had still so much to be a part of , so much left to see . But bucket lists die with a person , and mine died with her . But that woman taught me to make a to- do- NOW list ! That woman taught me to live my life through her unfair death . That woman is constantly teaching me , even now.
My psychology teacher wrote down the definition of death on the board , but I think I’m going to be a rebel and not learn that one , cause I’ve just learnt a new one through this Woman’s Death

Happy Woman’s Day.

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As a younger person, funerals tended  to be few and far between. Until the last funeral , where i found myself to be fragile . I could only imagine , how weak are the people who knew Her longer and better than me . At the funeral home , As i sat at the porch , so many known and unknown faces walked passed me . Some were drowned in grief and some maintaining funeral etiquette with a straight face , walking in having a look at someone who has changed their life in some way or the other . Ironically , the person in the Refrigerating Coffin , is someone they know by name , yet they choose to refer to her as just a ” Body ” . 
      But then there was a man , who sat beside her . Clearly she was more than just a dead body to him at that moment . He wanted her to look presentable to the people who came to pay their last respects , as he gently brushed her hair with his fingers . Then walked in women and men  with all the possible hysterical crying sounds , as they hugged him to share his grief , and support him . But to me , he was being more of a support to them then they were to him . I think that is one of the perks of being a husband to the most beautiful , strong and  bright-headed woman who can overcome a human phenomenon as death and continue to live well  and better than a person who is alive and just existing .
      i bet many of the wise adults thought it was an art of manliness , to not shed a tear when you’re hurting . But to me , that man was way deeper than their shallow thoughts . I remember breaking down and crying and he smiled at me trying to make me feel better . When he was supposed to be one of the people who broke down . But from the outside it looked like a fence of calmness . Maybe Aunt , was right , when she told me yoga works . But then again , i was sure he’d break down at the funeral . 
     A suit and a tie , some etiquettes is what every man took to that funeral . But this man took much more than that . Of course , he was her husband after all . but then again , he took more than any husband would have taken to that funeral . He took her voice in his head , her face from different occasions  , some strength which none of the exercise or training  could give him , some calmness from the yoga sessions , and most of all HIMSELF . He was the man who couldn’t be moved . He stood there so composed as a pallbearer . He was the only man who not only knew , but showed that the mud he put over the coffin was something so earthly and could never bury a love . I may not even remember all these details some years later , but the only detail i’ll remember is , He was a HERO at the funeral , MY HERO . None of us could have had enough of her , like he did , and that was evident in his  smile ,his  strength and his love  for everyone at the funeral . 

                          This is dedicated to my dad’s best friend . He’s not even human , he’s an angel or a gem . Nonetheless my HERO.  I think more than all the people who are scared of his physical strength , Cancer is definitely ashamed of itself . 


I remember my last Facebook status of 2012 , was thanking the year for teaching me to love fearlessly and for the best moments , for the best summer with my bestfriend and my coolest aunt , for a well deserved HSC grade . Today I deem it important to let my feelings out , like a catalogue of my thought . There used to be a hollow void in the sky sometime back , stealing my dreams and swallowing me up . But now I’ve lost someone , who I saw at my wedding when I dreamed about it , who was my daddy’s hero , my own mothers angel , someone who could be credible enough to take all the love tags , I lost her to the heaven’s and the skies .The stars aren’t out tonight, but I know she’s up there but it is only me, cold and alone, who looks upon the great sea above me for answers.
Is that loss , cause she’s not really dead , she’s always in my heart and head . Or is it loss , when that girl you’d physically alter the sun’s rotation for , no matter how much it burned , walk up to you telling you , ” were you really there for me when I needed you ? ” I could only hold the rock covering the ditch ,while she got up from that ditch , instead of pointlessly being in it too .
Or is it loss , when you lose someone you never really had ? The old tattered dreams of being together .. Oh wait they weren’t dreams . Of losing a reality I had plenty times . the loss of losing time , of never learning the art of leaving someone before being left all over again . A loss of a opinion . Apparently love isn’t always enough. That’s something that has been told to me over and over in music, books, and in the testimony of others. I always thought that I was different. Maybe I could be the one to finally achieve that perfect love that would never end or be altered . I allowed my life to be controlled by this vague notion of one-day reconciliation. I allowed my entire existence to be moldable like putting it in his large, familiar hands. Those hands once held mine in a dark movie theater and I knew that I wanted to hold those hands forever. Now I’ll never want that chance again. Cause those were the same hands that texted me he was busy when I needed him to tell me he was going to be there for me when I was grieving over the loss of someone I loved dearly .
To me , most of all , I lost myself with the loss of these three people .i lost them.in different contexts . But I have learned that everything beautiful is finite. What’s the beauty in something that lasts forever? A rainbow is momentary, like the flap of a butterfly’s wings or the first smile of a small child. Beauty can only be captured in photographs, in memories, and things that fade and die. If we were to last forever, maybe it would no longer be beautiful. Maybe there is beauty in the pain that stems from leaving . Well from aunt leaving , there was the beauty of defeating pain , a battle she won over cancer . From my bestfriend leaving , there was a lesson that no textbook can ever teach me . From the loss of love , is the beauty of hope , the beauty of faith in something better .

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I did not die

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.”

I read this somewhere .And thought I’ll share it on the blog. Helps me feel better when there’s so much of chaos in the mind , with the loss of someone so special .

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The swing she sat on used to make my head spin , but its early morning ,and sitting on it is soothing my grief . It was just yesterday , when I sat beside her , whispering softly words of love and hope , as of transferring positive energy which I didnt want anyone to know . A day of reminiscing what used to be and could have been . A night of travelling with thoughts heavier than my head , worked well for a ” dead to the world or should I say dead to the grief sleep .
On a normal day , a loud noise or the voice of my brother would wake me up . But an unusual calm and silence woke me up today , there was no hysterical crying , no weeping . No One told me she’s gone . I think it’s one of the responsibilities of being 18 , to sense the tone . Well , but. There was no tone ! Just silence. I wanted to ask , but what could I have asked ? Is she breathing ? Is she there ? No . Maybe if I stopped shivering , I’d. Beable to answer those questions to myself .
I thought it waa only in the movies , that as soon as the soul leaves the body, it starts to rain cats and dogs. I’ve always read those quotes about someone who hasn’t danced in the rain . But right now , it feels like i haven’t cried enough and the only way to not disturb the silence is to cry silently in the rain .
Everyone has to face death . I know . It’s about being grown up . But how do i face it , when I’m still rethinking the memories of her and me , when i was a little child . I have a long way to go , cause the not so long way im walking on , is making me cry by haunting me with good memories .
I have quite a few friends who texted me to pray for her , they haven’t known her long enough , cause i know she doesn’t need to worry about going to to heaven or hell .she came from heaven and she’ll go back there . The only pain , apart from the funeral , what next ?

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