Great love stories are often about the encounter with and subsequent loss of loved ones. -Unknown
I am in Bangkok and having a great time in spite of the torrential downpour. I’m at Oldies Cafe, my favourite restaurant in the city. I’ve been here many times since I arrived because the food is sinfully delicious. I embarrassingly have the love handles to prove it. Truthfully, I come because of the music. The soundtrack reminds me of my childhood- uncomplicated, uninhibited and free.
The song that is now playing is called I Can’t Stop Loving You by Dolly Parton, I think, and well, that’s how I feel about you. I don’t think you will ever receive this letter but…but, I love you. I have loved you since the first time we met- Wednesday, February 11, 2009. And four years later my love for you has never waned. It is as unbreakable as an oak stoically standing against a vicious night wind, as pure as a newborn eagerly taking its first peek into the new world, as true as the sun will rise and moon will shine, and as honest as every word I whispered into your ears.
I miss you, so very much. I often anxiously pick up the telephone, longingly place it against my ear, and robotically dial your number just so I can hear the warmth of your voice whispering a kind hello. But, my head savagely fights with my heart and forces me to reluctantly put it down, and my broken heart sheds another painful tear.
I have tried desperately hard to forget our past, to let the memories of you quietly linger off in the gentle wind but, when I think I have moved on and finally free, nostalgic images of you drench me like a sporadic desert storm harshly beating against a camel that has lost its way. I am left immovable, vulnerable, slowly drowning in a quicksand of thoughts. The world closes in, the air thins, I can’t breathe, I stretch my hands out, pleading to someone to save me and when I think I am about to be swallowed by the unforgiving earth, I open my eyes and realise that the storm left as quietly as it came, showing no hint of its destructive past. These are my days.
The music at Oldies has stopped. All I can hear is silence. The pen brushing against the white forms the new melody. It echoes. I am humming along to a song that has no words. I tap my fingers, the vibrato moves me. I see your face, your beautiful face. We are dancing, lovingly so, four left feet dancing. I dip you, you laugh unashamedly as you always do, revealing that perfect single dimple. I tap my fingers and hum.
I open my eyes and I am alone. The Beatles’ All You Need is Love poignantly cuts the air. A Gone with the Wind poster sits next to Elvis and a bikini-clad Marilyn Monroe poster looks over me as I nibble on my spare rib noodles.
Why is it that after all these years I still love you?
Hints of your fragrance still fills my lungs, I can feel your wet hair seductively caressing my shoulder, your eyes- hazel and haunting, porcelain skin and perfectly pink lips are all I see. My heart, though broken, still stands strong. Like a severed willow left alone in the wilderness, abandoned, it still thrives. Its roots penetrates, digging deep into the hard earth. It quietly grows.
Sometimes I will take a seat at the edge of my bed and stare at the dark night sky, thinking of you, hoping that you, like me, is gazing at the same full moon. It comforts me. A crow will occasionally caw in the distance breaking my trance, reminding me that your days are my nights, your todays are my yesterdays, your present is achingly not with me.
I feel like a wingless bird trying desperately hard to free itself from its open cage but I am left grounded only to hear the crows caw.
Stripped, I look at myself, really look at myself, and realise that I can fly. I can, but I choose not too. I keep going in circles, again and again, because leaving everything behind, to soar freely in the open sky, to have the sun kiss my tanned cheeks and wind blow through my hair mean letting the memories of you disappear with the wind. That I cannot do.
I will instead sit, chained to my seat, grounded, and wait- patiently, silently and longingly-until the wind blows no more.
Love always and forever,
By Jenson Deokiesingh