Runs on food and music, will sing for chips and pasta.

Thursday, September 13, 2012

Letter one hundred and nineteen - The days go on

Dearest J,

I think about you often.

A fast bike rode past me earlier on my way home from Cecilia's house.

I remember the hours before you head out to that Ulu Yam bike outing almost two years ago, you held me in your arms on the sofa bed, I came home late after celebrating a big night at the theatre.  You held me and said, "I like this very much.  I like to see you sing so much, clever girl.  You are singing so much more nowadays and so busy.  I like it."

And then we went to the bedroom to sleep, at some point.  I can't remember how many hours of sleep we managed that night since I got home so late.

But I will remember for the rest of my life, at least I intend to remember, that our last quality conversation was that we were both so happy.

Perfect, we had what was better than being perfect.  What do you call something that is better than perfect?  I don't know, heavenly?  Divine?

How can I replace something that is better than perfect...I cannot.  I may well be sentenced to a life time of solitary for what we had, what you gave us was so pure and divine.

During a chat a few days ago, Zal asked that I don't replace, but to find something different, to find a different way of living.  Not think about how to replace...I quote her:

"Whatever it is, i guess I'm saying don't dwell backwards lah k? Don't try to fill the space he left. Make 

new spaces. Not necessarily human shaped spaces... there's no way to intellectualize the missing bits 

away. I guess you literally have to develop a new habit."



A new habit...ok.  But you know what they say about old habit hard to beat.  And you and all that you were, an old habit very very hard to beat.

I am the same, I sing a lot.  I sing a lot a lot more now.  I also read more, I plan to travel more.  I still don't spend as much time as I wish to with your family.

Many things changed.  Your Mom told me that Hussein doesn't go to your house to get fed anymore, they call out to him everyday but he doesn't go there to eat anymore.  They said maybe because sometimes they bring his food out too late.  But he is getting fed by other neighbors, so don't you worry.  Hilary is the same, still manja as ever, still eat and lounges at your car porch.

Will write more.

Have to go now, pianist coming over soon to rehearse for a gig.


Yours forever,

B

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