"No, I don't want to lose it back."
The sentence slipped suddenly from your lips, slipped quickly without warning, and evaporated into the air. Disappearing, at the end of a quiet night.
This time without tears. Only the echoes of the falling raindrops. And the mist left over by your breath, blocking my gaze on your tired face.
"Have you ever had a lost dream?"
Do you know? I don't need to answer that question.
***
In Ketenong, a small village is a five-hour drive, with three car changes from the district capital of Rejang Lebong. You were born the youngest of five children. Twenty-seven years ago.
Your father and mother worked as teachers of a private elementary school. The only school is available in your village. Four siblings, one by one, left their homes to continue their studies.
You also walk the ritual, after completing your elementary school. Leaving home to continue school, is the most beautiful reason for separation. Live away from your father and mother. It is the most polite way to celebrate a loss.
"Never felt that, have you?"
I prefer silence. Your childhood story is enough for my reasons. Have you.
***
You came to the living room once, so I could see your spillage clear. After getting the news, if your eldest brother is getting married. To you, your brother's happiness is your loss.
Over and over again. Your cry is present in front of me. When the time is set one by one your brother must get married. Moreover, none of these events, you can witness. Again, when you were in power to mix up the menu you lost the mutest.
You begin to believe, your life is erected on a fragile foundation. Losing after losing comes and goes. Until you get used to painting lonely sketches. Alone.
"I dare not go against my destiny!"
That sentence is written on the second sheet of your letter. A hidden message from your dream, when I had to leave you. You also understand all the reasons for leaving. Make my dream come true. You are completely yours.
***
I think you started to forget the shadow of loss when I met your mother and father. When I say I want you to be a mother to my children.
"Thank you. I ..."
"I don't want to promise. But, I'll take care of you all my life!"
Behind your wet eyelids, you must understand. I want, losing immediately becomes the past. When one by one you present the fruit of love for me.
However, the presence of children from your womb can never completely eradicate the fear of loss. for you, the loss is a dark shadow that can never be suppressed.
"I want to make a promise?"
I have no idea! I don't know what you're thinking. That night, you cried silently in my arms. Your clear warmth I feel on my shoulder. After I rub the strands of your hair that is starting to turn white tired with age.
***
Today, Between the raindrops and the whispers lost. I went back to writing again. An obituary.
Your words, one of the many differences that still exist between you and me. When the two of them are exploring time together. You will wait for the first seconds of the change of day to do that.
Since a long time ago. After you are willing to be mine.
For you. The moment of increasing age is something that must be celebrated. While repeating memories and reminiscing about memories. Must be grateful. While returning to plant hope and sow new prayers for new days.
For me. It is the beat of time that I cannot prevent from going on. Back to a point of loss of time and space. Caring for dreams. Aging with you. And, I can't possibly say that to you. For me, it's better to love in silence.
Many times, my beaded eyes have witnessed your tears.
Not for announcing obituaries. But to celebrate life.
Good one