We have had a long weekend break for Diwali. 6 days where I had planned to catch up on all work in the first couple of days. Then read those books that I have been itching to reach, for the next 2 days. And of course, go for long walks and resume my yoga.
That was the plan.
What I hadn't planned for, was the grief.
Making marigold garlands to string across doorways was left midway. As I remembered how Tonmoy would not celebrate anything, but participate in everything that I'd do. So the garlands would not be strung on ordinary thread, but the one he used for his leather work. The waxed string would hold the shape better. I would then use the same threads to string up the flowers to dry, which would then be powdered and kept for Holi.
Diyas were washed and dried and wicks made with cotton. And both were left separate. The urge to light a lamp was overshadowed with the sadness that surrounds me like a cloud. One that holds me in a space where the heaviness wears me down.
Days pass by in this limbo. I cook, I make cheese, I plan to make soap, and sow seeds for winter. Answer phone calls, respond to queries, problem solve - I do all of this. But the limbo stays.
I have no clue how or when this cloud will break cover. I have no clue when the sunlight will stream into my heart and soul. I have no clue when I will be able ot remember the man without breaking down.
As I look at the morning light, I hope that it reaches into the corners of my heart.
And that somehow I learn to remember the man's gentleness, his love, his wicked sense of humour, his dry wit; without the tears.
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