In Remembrance

In Remembrance

Sometimes there are things you want to say
And you’re all but bursting with it, like a child
Running outside into the rain, happy and carefree
And you stumble at the door, stop on your tracks
Because there’s no one inside the house
And you tell yourself the news can wait
When he gets home. At the dinner table you’ll open up
About this letter from the publisher, it said yes, you’ll say
And should you open a champagne, Pinot Noir or Chardonnay?
The occasion calls for it and you have leftover canapes
Of course, he’ll nod and beam widely and open his arms
And you will run into them, engulfed in the familiar smell
Of sawdust and sweat and man
It will be a tight hug, with his cheek on your hair
And with a gentle sway in place, side to side
He’ll tell you how proud he is and you’ll run away for a week
To Russia or Uruguay, where your adored writers lived and…
Your thoughts will falter for in the corner is an empty chair
And you’ll recall with vivid clarity and a kick in the gut
The man who used to sit and stare into the hills
Waiting for you to come home, nervous, excited
But now there’s only his favourite coat, faded and worn
And the memory of a quiet afternoon, of the rain and the sea
The look on his face when he was about to take the plunge
The sound of crashing waves and the unmistakable thud
The wail that tore at your throat as you ran, disbelieving
It has been three years and you wonder in despair
When you’ll accept he’s never coming home
You make a mental note to buy flowers
Carnations and lilies, the ones he always offered to make you smile
The dead want to be remembered and you never forget


Lately, I’ve been feeling down. Maybe it’s all the deadlines and the stress of agonising over them. Maybe it’s the restlessness of wanting a change of atmosphere. This city bores me.

Or maybe it’s the fact that this month marks the death anniversary of a loved one. Three years. It has been three years. It felt like yesterday, at least the swift pang of grief. But it also felt like a century. I can’t even remember his voice anymore.

This is for you, little cousin. I will remember you always. 


23 thoughts on “In Remembrance

      1. Someone died, and it sounded like it was a loved one, but you dedicated this to a cousin, whereas the tone suggested boyfriend or husband or even maybe a close relationship to a brother. Is the cousin the one whom you miss and who is never going to be there? –and how did your cousin die? &c. So many questions!

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Aw. Haha. I’m sorry for not making it clearer. The poem is about a boyfriend or a husband. But it was about death. I only want to commemorate his death, but not necessarily with a poem about him. There was one I’ve written especially for him though which you can find here: There’s also another one I dedicate to him but it was purely a product of my imagination and does not reflect real life. It’s called “Untainted” and can be found in the top posts and pages. 🙂

        My cousin died from dengue fever. 😦


  1. Oh how I missed your poetry and words these past few days! I am glad your ink and paper filled my heart today!
    Most days, I dail my parent’ s number and then I remember that only my mom will answer the phone. My dad comes to say hi in my dreams and , during the day, he is in my thoughts ….When I need to see him , I look at photos…..BUT what I miss the most is his kind voice— something I don t have anymore. Why we always takes so many photos of people we love but we never register their voice? Maybe , It woyld be too paintful to listen to a voice while staring at an empty space….

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, lovely lady. 🙂
      I’m so sorry about your dad. It’s sad, indeed, that we don’t always remember to record the voices of our loved ones. But maybe you’re right. It might be more painful to listen to their voice and not have them beside us. Hugs to you. ❤️

      Liked by 1 person

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