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The eighteenth

It started with the ring. The symbol of our unity, the pictogram of our love; it was nowhere to be found. Somewhere between pulling out a trolley and paying for my small grocery, I felt the usual encirclement missing between my fingers; my wedding band had disappeared and it was nowhere to be found.

Although I was disappointed, my wife and I managed to get the exact band made from the same jeweler we bought it from three years ago. The only difference was it should be made a little bit tighter – my wife insisted. We both laughed. A sense of relief filled the air, but little did I know that this was just the beginning of loss. Little did I know that somethings cannot be replaced.

My wife and I fell in love at University, when we were both eighteen. It was the fifth of March, 2005 – indeed a memorable day. Till this moment, I can never fully encapsulate in words the experience of that early Saturday evening; the sun and the moon eclipsed and caused a landslide inside of me. Yet everything fell into place. The universe in perfect harmony.

It was so until our season was full, ten years later – but I did not have the mental and emotional disposition to decode that. However, instinctively I knew our journey had come to its end and felt our soul tide had served its purpose; but in my mind I was not willing to let go and move on, until I recognised that I was up against natural laws.

Once a seed has been planted, watered and nourished; it needs space to grow. Our relationship had served its course.

Navigating your way out of that course and redefining who you are, now that is a different subject on its own. They say the pain of losing someone whom is still alive is more difficult to process and absorb compared to burying a loved one whom has passed. Separating from my now ex-wife has been one of the toughest call.

A call that resounds from the eighteenth; when we exchanged vows and we promised to hold for each other light; light that has turned into a garden of illumination in my life. Who would have thought, in a space of absence – years later, such a day would reverberate in stillness, and hold space for memorable delight.

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