AMY’S DAY PART 2
The days that followed
Amy’s burial passed in a daze. I was numb; I was empty and totally lifeless. In
the days preceding her demise and subsequent burial, I had (and so was she) a
vivacious ball of energy. We had enjoyed
the days to the fullest in the wild abandon of campus insanity. I was Amy and
she was Sally. We were a unit bound together by passion and the fascination of self-discovery.
After the burial
ceremony, my college mates supported me back to the shuttle we had hired. I
have little memories left of the events of the sombre afternoon that we buried Amy. Tears
still well in my eyes and I lose my senses whenever I remember the horrific sound
of the clods of soil landing on Amy’s coffin. Each scoop and a thud of soil
tugged at and tore a chunk of my heart from my very bosom as they covered the
love of my life in that grave
Rediscovering life
after your love departs from the core of your heart is not easy. Even the least
of things spark memories of what you have lost. It may range from a distant
whiff of perfume or a far of echo of laughter. The departed is always there to
remind you unconsciously and incessantly of a time that was. I would be
mechanically walking from the lecture hall and then, ahead, far much ahead I would
spot Amy’s wonderful bum. As I had I had
gotten used to, I would quickly fish my phone from my folder and speed to speed
dialing to dial as we had always done. I would be at the brink of dialing when
the contact photo of Amy saved in my contacts list electrocuted me back to my
senses. The photo would remind me that she was gone and my unbelieving mind was
still playing tricks on me. Loosing Amy to the grim reaper goes beyond any
words that I can conceptualize
**
Drowning in incomprehensible
sorrow, I was ready for anything that fate would place along my way as I stumbled
along in life. The gnawing emptiness in my heart was wrenching every bit of
life from my very soul. To say that I was a disaster is an understatement. I
was very certain that, my heart lay under the very mould of earth that Amy’s
body lay. It is in this state of mental
and emotional emptiness that I broke into the disaster I was.
In that state which I very
much despise, I tried to dress the wounds of my ache in new adventures.
Remember that I am ample sally. I was and I still am blessed in places that
both men and women like. In desperation
to cover the hurt of losing Amy, I let go. Every day would be a party day. I
would land in a pub wearing a fake smile, my ample body and the hurt of losing
Amy hugging me tightly around my neck. The men folk who constituted the core
number of revelers in the clubs would stare in awe. I would visit the same
haunts that Amy and I had painted red in better days, get drunk and still go
home with a load of self-loathing bound on by drunk back.
The intoxicated men
fell over themselves as they competed to lay their grimy figures on the jewel
they had dreamt of for eons. Now that Amy was not present, my bar table would
flood in a flashflood of toxic drinks each encapsulating every individual buyer’s
craving and state in life. The raw sexuality my body radiated held them captive
and broke their senses. From a distance my body ignited flames that I could not
quench. If only they could read the distant look I bore in my eyes. The look of
a broken lover who had lost the best thing that had ever happened to her. The
empty look of Sally. Sally of the ample bosom and hips, Sally who missed Amy;
her friend, her love. That empty gaze!
Once in a while, a hot
girl would pass by my table. The fire I me would ignite but in a fleeting second
fizzle out like a candle little in the wind. My eyes would still wander seeking
for the shapely girls but as soon as my heart warmed a little bit, Amy would blow
out the flame. I missed Amy.
To be continued
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