Diary Entry: 29th May 2017
My memories keep going back to the time when we first met. I remember you telling me ‘I like your shoes’ and within ten minutes of saying thank you to the compliment, I ran over my ankle and broke my heels. That still brings a silly smile on my face. Then we both walked barefooted in the streets of Thamel, totally indifferent to the strange looks we were getting from the passersby’s, more engrossed in our own conversation; even though a part of me was glad that you took your shoes off too and saved me the embarrassment. And as we said bye, you told me that I checked off one of your bucket lists, and you always wanted to walk barefooted conversing with someone in a busy street like this. Totally movie like, I thought to myself back then but who knew life indeed could get very unreal.
For some reason we instantly clicked, our conversations always had an easy flow. We could talk about anything and everything and still have more to say. We shared stories that we were embarrassed to even tell ourselves, we talked about our success and failures, we talked about our relationships and career, we talked about our highs and lows. We had real conversations and maybe that’s why even though our friendship was pretty young, the candidness of it all made me so familiar to your life that I never felt the need to have spent more time together to know you better. We bonded exceptionally well, sometimes to our own surprise. I guess we just became really good friends without even realizing. I vividly recall you telling me, just a few days before the unfortunate incident, ‘Spree I feel like you are a female version of me. We are similar in so many different ways’. I wish that was true, because if it was, I would be so much stronger in dealing with this. I still keep hearing your voice telling me ‘Spree when you are sad and low, don’t run away from it. Pain is an inevitable part of life. Let it get to you, let it sink in, feel it and then get over it. Don’t try to pretend like it’s not there just because you can’t do anything about it. You’ve got to accept it, own it and then move on from it’. I am trying to live by your words.
You always said that we will never run out of things to talk about but never had I imagined that I could run out of your presence someday. I am trying to stand strong against this storm but every night after that day has been different. I find myself going back to my phone, wanting to call you, going back to our conversations and wondering if you are around, watching us. I keep wishing God had different plans and even if things still had to be the same, I wish we could get some sort of closure. Not saying that any kind of closure would have made this even slightly easier but at least I wouldn’t have to be waiting for the call that never came.
I never knew the intensity of the words “Chodera gayo” until that night; how it feels when someone so close to you walks out of your life with no hopes of returning back. May be the fact that I had never seen death so close to home, made it way more difficult for me to comprehend what happened and I am still reeling from it. I don’t think that I have processed it very well. I have all your stories with me but I don’t know what to do with them now. I had so many things on hold to share with you, I don’t know what to do with them either. I went to see your mum yesterday and all the while, I had that conversation we had the other day about your parents in my mind. How you appreciated the fact that they never told you off for making mistakes and encouraged you to learn from them. I kept thinking about the efforts you made to make your mum feel better the last time she was feeling very low. She needs that now – more than ever – but I struggled to find any words that could soothe even a fraction of the pain that she is going through. Now you are in a different world, maybe there is something you could do from there. She needs your hour long philosophical and spiritual sessions even more this time around. Give her the strength to see this through.
I hope that you have found eternal peace wherever you are and have embarked on a journey that you believed always existed. I hope you have left all your baggage back here, if there was any, and are flying high knowing that you lived the life you wanted and left doing what you loved the most. I will carry our memories with me throughout and genuinely hope that we will meet on the other side. You have been one of the few people I could confide on and I’ll continue doing so because somehow you have made me believe that life goes beyond physical existence. You still make me smile the same way. Thanks for walking into my life.