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…The first time I saw his face, the guy stealing my happiness. I held the picture in my hands, staring deeply into it. I was in her room, she had gone out to do something, so I decided to go through one of her bags. The minute I saw it, I knew it was him.
She never talked about him, but I yearned to know what he looked like. He looked horrible, at least to me. What I saw was a man with a bashed in face, bony cheeks that gave him gawky features, a crooked nose, and a mouth too big for his small face.
Although later when I thought about it, he really didn’t look that bad, he probably was handsome. I just couldn’t see it. Even if i did, my doleful mind could not process it. I saw what I wanted to see, I can be forgiven for that!
Our last night together was spent making love, passionate sweet love. It wasn’t anything like before, our souls melted as one, each thrust a true reflection of the melancholy that had permeated our ambience. She was good at hiding her emotions, always hidden in that smiling façade.
But that night was different. She didn’t cry, but I saw the hurt on her face, and it neutered my own pain. I was sure she wouldn’t forget me. We were never meant to end up together, the odds were against us, and the gods made sure of that, or else I would have been born earlier, or she later.
I was consoled by the fact that I had a memory, I had a story, and that someday I would tell it with a bold face. I have seen love first hand, and it couldn’t have come any better. Different people have different stories about their first time, their first love, some even forget, but not me, it was too special to forget, it changed me.
The day before our last night, we joked a lot, we made half hearted attempts at comforting our deeper desires, and our unwillingness to part.
She told me how I was the best man she ever met, and how our times together were forever indelible in her heart. I found solace in that. Then she went on to tell how we would be old or married to different people and find our minds wandering off to what could have been if we had ended up together.
I laughed at that, although I doubt if my laughter did enough to mask my anguish. I replied, telling her how all the great love stories had one thing in common, they hardly grew old together.
She laughed so hard and told me I had a twisted mind, and how on earth did I think about that. We continued with our witty exchanges, till we had nothing more to say. We sat there in quietness, lost in silent soliloquy. Moments later, I heard the gleeful chatter of birds, as they perched and flew about in the compound. They had come to a sad place, I thought.
So Hendrix, There are any number of clichés that I could throw at you right now. I could tell you that everything happens for a reason. I could tell you that God only gives his toughest battles to his strongest fighters. And all of these things would be true, but I know that it doesn’t make things hurt any less. People say that everyone has at least one story that will break your heart. For a while, I didn’t think that was true.
I Know someday you’re gonna write this story on your blog, I’m gonna read it and reminisce on this moment as such a sweet time of grieving. I’ll see that I was in mourning and my heart was broken, but one thing would be certain, my life was changing…
– The End