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Death. Even the word sounds what it means. How do you deal with it? I feel the tears stinging my eyes. I drift in and out of conversations. I don’t want people to look at me and nod. But I still tell them because I want to be able to drift in and out of conversations. I laugh because it’s funny. We talk about books, classes, and food. The Korean restaurant is nice, cozy. Someone comes in and there’s a draft of cold air. The tears come unexpectedly. I concentrate on my chopsticks. I remember talking to Aai in the morning, my morning. I had mistaken the call for my alarm. When I look back up, she cups my shoulder, “Are you ok?” I smile. I am glad I’m here. The food is delicious. We pay and leave. We make jokes about the cold. The wind hits hard when we open the door. Ten minutes to get to the performance. We find our seats, I’m excited. That thought creeps in again. I stay with it. The dancers start dancing. It’s beautiful. I feel emotional. I let myself feel it. The performance is over, smiles and hugs and out in the cold again. The walk from the T is painful… I let the tears stuck in my throat flow out freely, roll on to my cheeks. There’s no one home. Silence. I can only hear my breathing.
9.49am in India. They are probably driving to the crematorium. I remember the look of pure love in her eyes the last time I met her, Aji.