an iota of sadness

sometimes you don't really realize that someone is truly gone, until you start missing him.

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i did not cry when i last saw him. at the airport. in hong kong. his face was a mixture of sadness, fear and excitement. i would never forget that look on his face.
after a brief, awkward hug (we were always uncomfortable being intimate in public), we let go and said our final goodbye. then he walked away. i had a train to catch, but i didn't mind.
i just stood there, frozen, as he was walking towards the immigration counter. he was wearing a blue jacket, dark blue jeans. a black backpack was on his shoulder. his stride was heavy, unsure, wary. i was expecting he would turn back. change his mind. but he did not even look back. he just kept on walking, while i was staring at him for the whole ten minutes until he was out of sight.
i went straight to the train station and boarded the airport express that brought me back to ifc. i knew i should cry, but i didn't. i didn't even miss him. yet.
that was the last tym i saw him. six  years ago.

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of course he asked me to go with him. but i told him that i can't live in a place where it does not rain. i luv the rain. i luv how the air feels a bit chilly, though it depends on the month of the year and the time of day. i luv the sound the raindrops make when they fall on the roof or on the pavement. when it rains on a sunny day, the air smells of the earth and dust. sensuous. reminds me of the summer afternoons of my childhood: spent with my friends playing at the beach. splashing water against each other. building sand castles that we were too impatient or too lazy to finish.
"of course it rains there," he said.
"no. it's a desert." i said with finality, with authority though i wasn't sure myself. i have no idea about the city that he was going to. all i knew then was it was somewhere that would tear us apart.
and it did.
on our last nyt together, he cried.
i comforted him - lyk a mother to a child.
it surprised me because i was never maternal. i was incapable of luving someone or something, until i met him.

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on the fourth month of our separation, i cried.
i was tired from a long day at work. i went home to an empty flat. the silence was oppressive. i wanted to hear voices. human conversations.
just lyk that, the flood of memories rushed over me. an avalanche of sad, happy, memories. (pardon the cliche). unwelcome. relentless. childlyk. i cried the whole nyt and was too depressed to rise from bed. i stayed at home the whole week. without calling anyone, even the people at work.
my phone kept ringing. i left it unanswered.

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depression took over.
it was a dark, sad, harrowing place.
i never wanted to go back there.

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now as i look back, i realized that the biggest mistake that i ever made was to tell him "i can't live without you" because he does not deserve it. 

somebody who does not love me does not deserve an iota of sadness.
(but i have to admit, i never really learned how to smile again after he left.)

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