Ghost Of Your Love

“What would you like for dinner?”

I stopped typing on my laptop, totally forgetting that I should complete the story I was writing and turned my head to the kitchen where he’s rummaging through the fridge. A smile instantly crept across my face, loving the sight of this man in my once lonely home.

He just came home from work, probably exhausted, and yet he’s more concerned about my food preference than the fact that I didn’t even bother asking him how his day went. He’s already used to it and doesn’t make a fuss about it – if anyone is curious about that.

We’re like a mix of coffee, him as the sugar doing all the sweet stuff and me as the bitter content. I don’t even know why he’s still around, taking care of me.

He’s patient, loving, adorable, playful, and supportive of all my works. He also cooks well which is perfect because I love to eat. Sometimes I wonder what good I’ve done to deserve him. Do I even want to know?

We ate together then watched movies while he was hugging me the whole time, occasionally kissing my knuckles and my hair. I felt safe in his arms. Isn’t it good to have someone holding you close ’til you fall asleep after a long day? He’s my comfort, my sweet haven.

Jeth was in the shower when my mom suddenly walked in. She held my hands and gently squeezed them.

“Keira, You’ve been locking yourself here for three months now.” Her eyes were soft and full of concern. “It’s time for you to start letting go of his memories. Live on, sweetheart.”

I frantically shook my head upon hearing those words. What is she talking about?

“What do you mean mom? Why should I forget about him when he’s with me?” I asked, confused. “Jeth is here. He’s just in the bathroom. Wait ’til he goes out.”

My mom frowned and slowly shook her head. My eyebrows crossed.

When she just stood there with the same look without saying anything, I turned my head to where the bathroom is.

I couldn’t hear the sound of the running water anymore. His slippers aren’t there where he’d usually put them. My eyes then traveled to the urn on my bedside table.

Tears suddenly rolled down my cheeks when scenes from that night flashed before my eyes. Jeth on the driver’s seat. Me riding shotgun, laughing at his silly joke. A blinding light. A screech. A deafening sound. An impact. Me waking up on a hospital bed. Me crying at his funeral.

I fell on my knees. Mom lightly rubbed my back to comfort me. But no, he’s not dead. Weren’t we just cuddling a while ago? He even cooked for me and we ate together. Everything was normal. We were fine. He held me and I held him. How would that be possible if he’s already dead?

‘Live, Keira’ a voice whispered to my ear. A cold breeze touched my bare shoulder and I shivered. I think he just hugged me. But I just cried and hugged my knees.

A letter to Papa

Dear Pa,

How are you?

It should’ve been a new year in your life.

You should’ve been celebrating your 72nd birthday today. We should’ve bought you a cake and you should’ve blown the candles. We should’ve been there to witness it, and maybe even take a video so we can rewatch after.

It should’ve happened, but I guess they’ll stay as ‘should haves’

Kuya bought you a cake, but you can no longer blow the candles.

We cannot take a photo or a video of you. We are celebrating, but you cannot celebrate with us. Funny how I spend your birthday wondering how it could’ve been if we had celebrated this day together, even just for once. You were too busy working to give us a better life to even take a day off on your birthday, and we never thought you’d leave too soon.

I know, everyone will go to where you are now, but I never thought it would be that soon.

I still have a long list of what ifs, regrets, things I should’ve said and shouldn’t have said.

I still long for the conversations we never had.

But then, even your one liner text messages haunts me. I wish to receive them again.

I still remember that day. It was early in the morning and you asked me to walk with you. I obliged. We never had long and deep conversations. I was your introvert child who can’t even start a proper conversation with you. I watched your every step. I watched you from behind. I told myself I’d like to have more mornings just like that.

Little did I know that it would be the first and the last.

Pa, my only wish is your peace. It still pains me to know I can no longer give back for the things you did for us. I wanted to give you a better life. With us. With mama. But you left too soon. You left too soon.

I still hang on to the pain. I keep it with me. It’s the kind of pain I’d gladly feel. It’s the kind of pain that keeps me going.

I promise I won’t forget you. I’ll talk about you. I’ll keep you alive with my words.

And promise, the family we hold dear will stick together. We’ll take care of each other.

Your overly sensitive daughter on this particular day,
Vier

Inktober 2019 Day 31

In the end,
the colors wouldn’t matter
when lives fade into nothingness
and the screams turn into faint whispers
of unheard pleas.

Bound by chains of terror,
incriminated with a made-up sin;
Muffled by oh-so-mighty hands,
blindfolded by hand-picked
truth in their lies.

#musingsofapoetess #minipoetryseries #twelfth #inktober #inktober2019 #inktoberph #inktoberday31