I still long for the sound of my name on your lips, the way you will never say three syllables but only the first two;
I try so very hard to recall the way you laughed at yourself whenever you watched fitness videos and followed the steps;
My heart sinks whenever I remember the concerned look on your face and how your eyes lost its glow whenever I fell sick;
& I am still shattered to pieces when I am reminded of the moment the news was broken to me.
Now I am left with nothing but a bunch of pictures and memories that are slowly slipping away like sand between the grasp of my fingers, and no matter how hard I try I cannot keep it for long, because sooner or later I’d have to open up my fist and let something else in – just like how I create new memories along this journey but trust me, I have no intention to push away those neurones that store memories of you.
I know God heals. But as much as I store up new memories and as much as I am astounded at His blessings and as much as I think I am gripping onto something else instead of slipping sand, there is still that invisible void that never seems to heal.
It’s like…? Trying to hold on to what was once sweet and wonderful while knowing it hurts, yet subconsciously pushing it away while wanting it to stay?
How do I even explain this in words, I can’t even explain it in terms of my own feelings.
But I guess, I am still in the process of restoration.
It’s been years but after all, it is a journey where over and over again I am humbled by His grace.
Into Your hands.