Who Left That Window Ajar

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I don’t know who left that window ajar. I stepped into his room to gather his clothes, but my gaze diverted toward the rays of sunlight infiltrating into the room. I opened the window and peered into the sky. A tint of yellow and blue spread across it. A cool breeze of the evening caressed my body. A kid is chasing another kid on the street ecstatically​, both of them filled with delight.

Everything is supposed to make me feel blithesome. No, it failed. When this heavy heart has to drift an unfathomable sorrow for the rest of the life and all attempts to run toward gayety go in vain, the turbulent riot inside becomes unstoppable, sometimes unbearable. Who can obliterate his fond, bitter memories? I remember my tumultuous wail of pain howling inside these four walls a year ago on the same day. 

My life ceased at that moment when I realized the blood won’t circulate anymore into his veins, he won’t respond to my call, he won’t see anything, and his heart won’t beat anymore. He was 27. That appealing call from a stranger that night gave me ineffable sensations​. I rushed to the hospital and doctor conveyed that the fate deprived me of the best person in the world.

Everyone reassured that my life isn’t over. I can’t change what happened, but I must not lose hope. I think he wants the same. That’s why he left this window ajar. So he could say hi to me through this breeze and instill a ray of hope through these rays entering through the slit. These clothes absorbed all the love he had and now they are permeating it in the air I am breathing into. I can try to convince myself all I want. The crazy fact is, two people demised that day. A son and… a mother.

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