Six Months

Dear Arijit,

Well, here we are.  Six months.  I almost can’t believe it, but, then again, there’s a lot about this past half-year I can’t believe.

I still get caught up on the concept of time.  How has it been six months since you died, when it feels like an eternity crossed with an instant?  How is it that we only got seven years together, considering that I have a hard time remembering life before you?  How is it that, statistically speaking, I have more than half of my life left and you are gone?

I try to leave the questions of time to the physicists and the philosophers.  I recognize that the importance of this date—and, by extension, all the feelings and emotions tied to it—is entirely self-imposed.  Today does little more than mark a completely arbitrary amount of time since an important event, so why do I feel so compelled to celebrate it (even though celebrate is entirely the wrong word)?  Today is no different than yesterday, or tomorrow, or two weeks ago, or five years from now.

Sometimes I wish we didn’t have such exact methods for measuring time; grief seems like it would be so much easier if I couldn’t tally exactly where I am, which would mean fewer expectations (both from myself and others).  But no, we are creatures of numbers, of order—dates are important.  It’s how we keep track our ourselves, of our place now and where we are going.  We cannot have progress without a starting point.

You’ll be glad to know that I am making progress.  I can finally say that, generally speaking, I am happy again.  There is still a very deep and unshakeable sadness within me, and it sometimes swells and overflows the barriers I’ve put up around it.  I expect this will always be the case.  I accept that there will always be some pain, no matter what other pleasure I find in life.  But that’s the chance I took in loving you, and knowing that I could someday lose you.  It’s the chance we all take if we’re brave enough.  Luckily for me, our love is worth all the tears I could ever cry, and more.  And that love—steadfast and unconditional and everlasting—gives me the courage to seek out new sources of happiness, and joy, and love.  For the first time in a long while, I am optimistic about the future.  I am sure I will be afraid and hesitate; I will stumble, and possibly fall; but I will pick myself up and keep going.   I will live, and will do my best to live well, the way you did.

You died at the beginning of spring; it is now the first day of autumn.  I am entering my third season without you.  But however many seasons I have left, I will love you until the end of them.  The road ahead is long, but knowing I have you in my corner, and in my heart, makes me excited for the journey.

Ami tomake bhalobashi, Arijit.  Now and always.