Postcript I

I always used to tell you this: You are home.

Finding you, loving you and having you love me back, was like finally being able to put down the heavy luggage of the heart that I had stubbornly carried with me these last 33 years.

Now you’re gone and I have to pick myself up again along with all that baggage I thought I’d put down and put away forever. It’s even heavier than before and I am no longer a seeker or traveller, I am not even a nomad. I can’t go back to where I came from and I don’t know where I am going next. All I know is that my arms ache with the weight of my past. My heart is leaden not only with what I cannot let go of, but of all that I have lost.

I am emptier than ever and full of holes where the thorns of my losses have pierced my every breath.

Art: Tracy Emin (You Forgot To Kiss My Soul)

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