As days go by, time just gets away from us. It turns into distance, assuming various elastic shapes like an amoeba.

As I go through his clothes, his fragrance seeps through the veil of a delicate detergent into my frontal cortex, radiating to the rest of my brain, giving rise to a catalogue of emotions. The loudest one being – I miss him! It is unbearable, unquantifiable but so palpable! It is not like anything I have ever felt before. Each time it is new. Saying it feels like a hole in my heart would be a gross understatement.

”The best advice I ever got was to just forget about them.” , said a colleague whose daughter had sadly died in a road accident a few years ago. It’s true. Everyone deals with it differently.

Lime green is the colour of his trainers. Penguin is the motif on his hoody. Lavender are most of his t-shirts. Pink is his drum-kit. ‘Egg Flied Lie’ is one of his favourite Chinese rice dishes. When the moon is full, it is his. Badger is the role he played in ‘Wind in the Willows’ at primary school. The sun pouring its warmth through a curtain of clouds is him. His mother is me. The smile on my face, the tears in my eyes and the love in my heart are his too.

He is the embellishment woven into the fabric of my life.

Forget?
How?
Why?