Short Story about Remorse – Breath!
Photo credit: lorettaflame from morguefile.com
Fingers are restless. They want to tell a story. Listeners? Not sure. But it doesn’t matter. The pattern is defined. It needs to be told, before it’s late.
It is almost 8 months. Yet it seems years. Everyone is accustomed to the fact, except some. I even find myself comfortably matured in this respect. “Life moves on. That’s the law of nature. Practical. Future.”
I sometimes feel did I love her enough? She was someone so dear, yet I am so occupied in my own world that I forgot to miss her?
Not true actually. Some nights are terrible, whenever I allow the loss to touch my thoughts. Like the night when I was drunk, when people thought I am deep asleep under magical spell of wine turns, I was actually crying loud, calling her, lamenting over the helplessness, mocking at myself. When I heard none, slept silently, resuming back to my matured self, who was not so sober at that moment.
She was never a proclaiming mother. Never demanded our presence, never commanded her will. Its difficult to put ourselves in her shoes to understand the state and acknowledge it. They say a regular housewife have nothing to do? Think again. Thinking about family round the clock, food, air, well-being, everything. Unconditionally! How did she get it done?
Just the look in her eyes did the magic for us.
When I said I couldn’t come home during the session breaks, she understood. When I said that I had to go to join office immediately after her recovery from ICU, she understood. My success and her proud smile, all linked, seamlessly.
Helpless now. I wish I could tell her more how much she’s missed.
True that we don’t have control on the things around us. And we actually don’t have option other than turning into a practical dream, which is surrendering to the laugh of destiny, with a confidence of a winner.” The battle is won, and thee hath emerged as a conqueror. Amen!” You think..
Leaving aside the depressing thoughts, I don’t think the way above. I think it as a story, story that will remain. You came here with a purpose of your own, also to play a part in other’s purpose, have your ride through thick and thin and then.. disappear!
You presence will be noted by many, your absence will be felt by some. And after some time, you as a memory, will linger, till the last acquaintance allows. Next?
A new beginning. A new breath!
__END__
