Eid Mubarak is still around but somehow the festive mood has died down even on the day itself.
This is somehow the worst Eid Mubarak the family had gone through.
And the worst birthday for Lyn, her 16th birthday. My brain is just all jungled up together and could not compute a single thing what she was telling me about. Just yesterday, I somehow let my guard down on my emotion and A MONSTER roller coaster just swept me off. I started ransacking the store room where I kept all his love letters to me, all neatly folded and stacked in a white plastic bag. They were dated from way back in 1985. I took them down to the back of the small yard of the kitchen, a lighter in hand, all dazed up like some kind of a person hyped on caffein.
I slowly unfolded each and every sweet scented envelope, glanced through its contents, all the same time feeling the hot morning sun in my face. Crumpling each page, I started to light the papers, and in within seconds, I had a small bonfire and I kept on feeding the fire with more pages from the love letters. Blue coloured papers. White coloured ones. Little cute Garfield cards, all ticked at the right boxes. Valentine cards. Burning slowly.
And I saw my life of past 24 years with this man flashing in front of my eyes.
All these seemed like a final journey. An affirmation that the relationship is over.
That the central pillar of my life is gone.
That my life is over.
Or, has it just started?