“And your home will change into four walls and a mini fridge, instead of four limbs and lips to kiss.” On The Drive Home, Niki.

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Our home wasn’t that big, but since it was filled with just the two of us, it feels more than enough. You’ve always wanted a red-brick house, with English roses growing on the fences. The house only got two bedroom so you quickly turned the other one into your favorite sanctuary. You loved wooden furniture, maroon velvety blanket, and your own paintings on the wall. Every inch of this house was decorated with live plants that you managed to keep alive, somehow. Well. Not just the plants, but you kept me alive too.

Other than the sanctuary, your other favorite part of the house was the kitchen. It’s not too big, but it was beside the sun room and it’s colored in sage green and broken white; with terrazzo pattern on the tabletop. You loved spending time in the kitchen; experimenting with various recipes, and mostly succeeded in recreating them that my cargo pants wouldn’t fit me anymore. I always said you should write a cookbook, but you said you wanted the food exclusively reserved for my tummy only. You went grocery shopping almost everyday, and you always found excuses to fill up our fridge. You loved stocking them up until there’s no space for me to keep my unfinished sticky toffee pudding.

We always went to farmer’s market on Sunday; and when we got home, I’d crawl back to bed while you cooked some delicacies for our picnic date since the weatherman said it would be sunny the whole day in London that day. You’d finish around 1pm, woke me up, and dragged me to Primrose Hills —your favorite place. We’d pick our spot under the sycamore tree as I’d rest my head on your lap, basking under the sun.

I’d lie if I said that wasn’t the best day of my life, because it was. It still is.

No days will ever top that day, because after I saw you cold and blue, I’ve been living in hell every day. A cold, freezing hell.

Our home wasn’t that big, but with you gone, it felt as big as an empty stadium —I could scream until my lungs gave out and the sound still would never reach the other end. I could throw a whole pine tree on the fireplace and burn the whole house yet my grief would still freeze me alive. Your plants were dying but somehow they still carried your spirit, they wouldn’t give up until the very last time even after I told them to.

And the fridge’s now empty.

—

“Ramiel… I’d miss you terribly, buddy.”

I return the hug. Andrew and his family had been such a massive support during this rough time, as if they weren’t the one who were losing you as well. You’ve been blessed with an amazing family, did you know that? And somehow those blessings are now mine, too. “Me too.”

“Take care of yourself, would you? You’re so thin and disheveled. Please eat a lot of good food, I know Indonesia has amazing selection of culinary,” your mum reaches for me and cups my face with her weary hands. Hands that brought you up, hands that had shed your tears. Hands that later only could caress the tombstone with your name written on it, instead of caressing your brunette hair. “Will do, Mum. You have to stay healthy too, okay? I’ll come back to visit you later.”

“Come back when you’re ready. You can take your time, love.” She hesitates for a bit. “Eden would be devastated if she could see you now. She would wish for every stars in the sky for your happiness. So please, try to be happy for her too. Okay, love?”

There’s no healing from this, so I thought. I’d continue to live in different continent, away from our spot in Primrose Hills and your last resting place; that’s just the best I could ever promise you. To stay alive, even when my heart is ripped apart. Until it’s not difficult to just breathe. Until there’s a promise of a next lifetime, and the first person I will be looking for is you. Until then; I’m yours. Always.

“Will do, Mum. Please tell her I love her whenever you visit her, okay?”

“Of course, love.”