Thursday, 22 February 2007

Allah loves her

As of today, it has been 15 years. I am now 19 years old, and will be 20 this coming August. Fifteen years ago, I was four years old. I don't know if people in general can recall memories of life when they were one, two, three or four years old, but I can. They may not be clear memories, they are vague, but hey, they are still memories.

I didn't get it. I didn't know what was going on. I remember pretending to cry. Not until when I started to realise that things were not normal, when finally I realise the daily absence, that's when it had hit me.

Only years later then I had fully understood. Only then I started to recall the memories. These memories would make me cry. I like to cry to these memories; however vague it may be. It makes me feel connected; it brings out some kind of presence; maybe not in reality, but in my mind, at least. It's like making a link with the absent one.

On some days, I can somehow recall a memory I never knew I had. On other days, other memories would come. It's like putting torn photos together, something like that.

Before I would question why. I would question how my life would be. Would I end up becoming a better person? Would I still end up being the same person I am today? One thing for sure, I know I would have been a much happier person.

I want to regret how I didn't appreciate back then, but I was only four. I wish I could think. I wish I could appreciate.

However, now, all is good. What's gone, is still a part of me. It is. It will always be. I still have the memories to grasp on to. I still remember the last time I kissed her cheeks, even though lifeless. That is all there is that matters now; the memories.

May Allah bless.

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