Back in the good old days which I thought would never end, he took me to places where I would never have gone without him. We had expensive dim sum in chinese restaurants where the waitresses wore cheesy-looking cheongsams. We made TB Plaza our haunt; watching movies, cutting hair, shopping for cds, having delicious pasta at the top floor. He led me into brightly lit shops like Ralph Lauren and Calvin Klein, and I would amuse myself by being his fashion consultant.
And we done things that we would have never done without each other.
Lying quietly together just listening to music and the beating of our hearts, and then falling asleep. Cuddling up with a blanket to watch dvds. Wearing couple-ly things together; similar caps, similar shirts, similar shoes. Saying code words that only the two of us know. Holidaying in Bintan and getting all burnt and peeled. Discovering fascinating habits and idiosyncrasies about each other.
It was fun to do these things not because they were particularly interesting but because we did them together.
But he is gone and he is not coming back.
I can never hug and kiss him again. I can never wake up beside him again. I can never watch him sleeping again.
That perfect moment when he opened his eyes and frowned his slightly disoriented sulky frown – a frown that made him look like a small boy who has suddenly discovered that he is lost, a frown that never failed to make me smile – I won’t see that again. He is gone and there are a million things that we are never going to do together again.
I don’t want to give up on life and love and all the rest of it, but I can’t help myself. It’s because life and love and all the rest of it have given me a good hiding. Life has made me feel like death warmed up.
I’ve lost my faith and I don’t know how I can ever get it back. Because I still miss someone. And because I will always miss him.
Is that okay, my love? Is it okay to miss you?