It’s hard. Did I mention it’s hard? Also, it hurts. It hurts quite a lot. The pain seems to kind of eases up for a bit and it’s like I take a deep breath, grit my teeth and find something else that will hurt. I don’t want to hurt, but there it is, standing in my way in between here and someplace else. Rather, it hurt me yesterday. I put it aside in favour of some other more urgent pain. I know it will hurt me again. So I deal with it now in hopes of making tomorrow easier.
I have been thinking about Aisha. The thing about Aisha is I think she is still alive. It is a different kind of loss. It is different when someone is away from you, but not dead. You miss them in a different way. There is not that sense of “no there there.” It hurts, but differently.
With a dead body, I have that feeling of “Where did she go?” I don’t have that feeling about Aisha. It feels like she must be somewhere. Not that I have that deeply buried hope, but there is that feeling of still having a kind of communication, like we are both looking at the same moon still somehow.
I think, actually, she is somewhere—I guess now she might be dead. She would be in her 70s or 80s. It’s still different, because I exist to her still. She must think about me sometimes, and wonder what happened to me, and somehow I think she still cares. And it is different. It is really, really different.