It's hard. It's heavy. Trying to relive memories of you is a load of weight to bear, because I'm missing you, I still am. In another 2 months, it would be a full year from the day you part us. All these months, it's a miraculous passing time that I survived without a breakdown, though occasional flashing of your memory brings cursory stops of breathe, I did best to behave as I did at your wake, be very cautious not to drop a tear in your search of bliss. Every now and then, at breaks that I steal from work and life, I still feel your warmth in my hands, I could still feel my touch on your creased forehead, your shimmering grey hair that's still soft from your inherited ancestral genes. I remember how I love to pinch your cheeks, though sagged but not giving away in textural smoothness that you bore. Painfully, I still remember the last heavy groans of breathe you held in your final hours, from across the ocean thousands miles away, through the cellphone that I request to speak to you the thankful words from my heart, that I wanted you to know before your depart that I'm deeply thankful and appreciative of your presence in my life to make a colossal difference of what I am today, of my continual existence in this earth if not you. I knew you could hear me, and you knew my spirit is with you. My world at your final hours froze, and my soul drifted into thin air with a remain of nothing. Spiraled into a black hole of infinite darkness, helpless was not a diction that could spell my heart complete. No matter how reluctant I am to say, a wait for your final call of death is the greatest torment that I could hardly bear till this day, like you know something bad will happen at definite terms and you could do nothing but wait for its announcement. Actually, to be honest, I cried a hell lot, draining all the composition in my body that I almost felt life gone. And to be honest, my soul had already shattered the day you were struck by acute stroke more than 2 years ago. These years from then, I tried to travel back home, albeit my reluctance for the reason you knew, to see you at every chance I can. Even if we aren't communicating like we used to be, even though you've lost much of your memory in the stroke and may not recognize me, to call me like you used to, simply seeing you and holding your shivering hands, to interlock with your crooked arthritic fingers suffice my deep thoughts of you. Thank you my dear, thank you. I know you are in good hands as I don't see you in my dreams. I know you are having a great life now finally. Because of you, I'm not fearful of death as I know we'll meet again some day. Memories of you are my treasure, and I'll toy with these leftovers whenever I miss you. RIP.
Rare opportunity to chance upon two mating beetles, and seeing wonders of nature. Intimacy at a space of time was never a factor in the equation of love.
My lavender blossoms.
Now I see my salad ingredient, arugula, grows, and I shall reap my harvest in the next week. These will provide supply for several meals of salad for lunch, in addition to other assortments of leaves.
Though small in size, my tomato is finally showing signs of growth with the puny green fruits hanging proudly from its stalk. I counted, and there are 7 of them, which will soon develop into bunches cos these are cherry tomatoes which grows in cluster by nature.
