The anticipation of loss
It comes in waves. Rolling in under the surface and then hitting with the force of a tsunami. This feeling of already missing what I have not yet lost. I think this ‘pending’ missing may actually be worse than the actual thing. Once I am gone I will miss my life and the people here, but my “new life” will be starting and will help keep my mind off of it. But for the moment I don’t have the luxury of that distraction. Being here I am being continually smacked in the face with the knowledge that the missing is coming. Will this be the last time we sit down for tea together? The last time we are passing the day just sitting under a tree talking? The last political debate? The last bush taxi ride? The last offer of sacrificing a chicken to find me a good husband? The last nightly soccer game, last dolo run, last conversation in the dark under thousands of starts, last everything? It’s coming. The end is coming quickly, but the anticipation of loss has already hit the shore.