The departure of someone is always hard to digest. The departure of someone that one has developed feelings for is worse. Every morning you wake up and you think how abruptly the person has left and how much more you wish you could do for that person when she were still around.
The regret that you did not spend just one minute more with her on the phone before she left, the regret that you did not spend enough time with her, the fleeting memory of holding her hand albeit for 10 seconds, the look of her face when she is sleeping, the action of drawing the blanket over her just before you go to bed, the lingering moment that you stood there watching her sleep while everything in the world seems to stand still, the journey back home, the proximity of how close you are to her when sitting on the bus, the walk back to her room, the sight of her making honey while you get ready for lessons, the last glance of her before you left the room and the reluctance to leave it because of some obligation to a crapass lecture.
The memories are there. But I have folded them with a blanket and stuff it deep inside my memory bank.
I walk up the stairs, look at the now vacant room. The sight of a now empty door that once graced her pictures and name. A gentle run through with my fingers, through the frame and to the knob, the eventual sigh that followed.
I cut a desolate figure as i turn away and walk back. The room is vacant. The physical being is no longer here but the memories however little, will stay on.
May God be with you. Take care in whatever future endeavour.