Not Sinking
Summer in London, here I am back again. I remembered it used to be hot, the world was a completely different place. We were queuing to enter the Lido, sunbathing by the pool, going in and out to cool our bodies down.
All seemed to be a lifetime ago. The sun hits your face, the golden youth.
And I still wear the midnight blue swimsuit you gave me, this is one of the very few things that I inherit from you. It has almost been two years since I lost you. Most mornings, the first thing I think of, is you. Your face, your smile, your accent and the eloquent way to describe the outlook of this world.
Involuntary memory: Every time I dive into the pool, I travelled back to the time being in the blue, with you.
“We can’t have loss without love. It’s the Dark gift, it’s a gift that you don’t want to be given.
At the moment, going right back to the basics, retrench, strip everything out, work out how I can do my duty to the people around me.”
You will be pleased to know that I have been making new friends. I guess I am slowly overcoming the fear of abandonment and started creating new connections. Often I swim with our friend, Rosa - as if you assigned me with a new swimming buddy. I can almost see your cheeky little wink behind those clouds.
I dived in, I touched the floor tile on the bottom of the pool.
The first breath as soon as I broke the surface of the water. The constant reborn, the persistence and resilience.
Grief has always been a life-long oscillation between the pain of loss, and the instinct to survive.
Except, this time, I chose to stay afloat, and not sinking.
