Jul 18 2009
The unbearable heaviness of not being
Time is relative, I have observed. I know, there is a calendar to abide by, a given set of numbers that decide how long a year, a month or a day is. Yet, time is relative. It is relative to what we have and what we lack, to our plans and our pitfalls. Our life, as it unfolds, sets the pace of time — and sometimes lets us become aware of its power.
A week ago, we were having fun together, playing pool as if we knew the rules at Houston’s Chances bar. A week ago, you were Texan and I was British, and we laughed over a few drinks as we mixed up our accents while we dared each other across the table. A week ago, Saturday morning would bring the garbage
After you left the apartment a few days later and I closed the door behind your inaudible sigh, the mourning clock began to tick. Your absence filled each room as much as your presence had, only minutes before. I endeavored to change my routine to no avail. Eventually there would be something that, had you been there, would have been natural, would have felt right. But you were gone, and this time I feared an indefinite abyss. The emptiness of you felt stronger, perhaps because this house was ours for some days even while it was not, both of us being strangers in foreign land.
With you gone, I had nothing to cling to, only impersonal crooked pictures and faded comfort colors that would lull me to sleep until you called from a remote airport, enslaved by your own withdrawal of us. As I woke up to set the coffee brewing before my shower the next morning, or even as I returned home at the end of my workday, time was always relative. It was relative to its forceful repetition of itself without you…it was relative to you.
W: velocidad, felicidad, vértigo, tristeza todo lo oí en sus palabras….menos mal que tiene al escribir, para elaborar lo relativo del tiempo.
La saludo como siempre, con el encanto de leerla!
O-mai-god!
Me sacudiste con tus palabras y al mismo tiempo comprendí cada línea como si fuera mi propia historia.
Ay… ¿Qué puedo decirte ahora, W?
Me dejas pensando, soñando, revoloteando en mis propios pensamientos.
Dear Emi,
That is all there is in my words, I am afraid. I am a whirlwind of emotions, reminding me to be alive and to pay for it. There are so many absent spaces to fill, so many…We know some things are difficult, yet we embark upon them. Is it because we have no choice or because we feel so much power that we think we can change the unchangeable? I wonder, and time passes.
Thanks for dropping by. You know it is always a pleasure
Regards,
W
Dear Ceteris Paribus,
So you know what time feels like? Good for you, I think that despite the pain it entails, it is worth finding out. I am glad my words moved you, it means I am not so alone in all this.
Take care, my friend, and thanks for your words.
W