I entered the café and a sudden thought of him came flooding in as I breathe in the aroma of caffeine. He never liked coffee but he still accompanied me whenever I wanted to have a cup. He even let me switch our drinks whenever I felt like mine is too bitter and his is sweeter. That’s how I’ll remember him, a little mixture of both.
I remember him when I ride the train and how he wrapped his arms around me to protect me from the people who pushed through their way in. I remember him in every event I go to because he always offered to come with me even though it’s not really his thing. I have another charity event coming this year and I will miss him there. The people who were there with us last time will surely ask why he’s not with me.
How do I forget him when every single person around us ask me about him?
This is how I’ll remember him–through these people who have been with us through time.
I remember him when I sleep and he’s not there to hug and kiss me goodnight. I remember him when I tried to get up and there were his arms pulling me closer to him, refusing to let me go—as if the world outside didn’t matter and it’s just us.
I remember him as I go to work and I steal another hour of slumber in the car and how I used his shoulder as my personal pillow. I remember him when I get out of the office and he’s not there to pick me up and send me home.
I remember him as I took a turn down the street and another one and another more. He is in every corner of this small town we grew up in. I remember him as someone who helped me expand my world but now it’s all shrinking back to my empty self. Even our house is filled with his presence, it’s suffocating.
This is how I’ll remember him–in every sob and every tear. In everything I do, I see and feel.
Then, I will remember how he chose another girl over me. How he chose to throw away two years worth of memories just to be with someone else he just met. I will remember how he said sorry a lot of times but he didn’t even bother to ask for a second chance. I will remember how I told him I’m letting go but he didn’t even beg me to stay. I will remember him as the one who let me loosen my grip. The one who gave me no choice but to let go because there’s no point in holding on.
This is how I’ll remember him–the one who closed the door shut as I walked away.
I didn’t know until he left me that pain can physically drain people. It got to the point that I don’t want to get up anymore. I don’t want to talk to people. I just want to shut the world out. That doesn’t mean I want to be gone, I just don’t want to do anything. I even abandoned my books because no story can pull me out of this forlorn reality I’m in. There’s no escape.
This is how I will remember him–on busy Mondays and lazy Sundays and every other day in between.
This is how I will remember him. I will remember him as my constant heartbreak. That someone who gave me so much to remember.
This is how I will remember him. Until I don’t anymore. Until that day he’s no longer my first thought in the morning and someone I dream of at night. Until that day I don’t even think of him at all.
Until the day I decide he no longer holds a piece of my heart nor does he have another say in my life. That day is today. I’ve made up my mind.
when words blend 