Its the day when i would be feeling his fragrance for the last time. All our friends have told me to just let go. So, i am donating all his clothes and other paraphernalia to charity.
But maybe, just maybe, I will keep his baby pink shirt. Even to this day, when i nuzzle into it, I can feel his pulse and his scent, his perspiration after a whole days work and his famous Brute. I got him the shirt on a wild whim, because he doesnt like pink... but he loved it.
It was the day, I came back from the NGO, all mentally drained. Kara's case was bothering me. A little girl of nine, brutally raped. Torn to the hilt, she could not be sewn back and we had no option but to watch her bleed away to death. It ws his birthday and i ended up crying in his arms, soaking the shirt. Midway between my sobbing, i realised, he had taken the day off to celebrate his birthday with me, which gave way to a fresh round of tears. He just stood there, holding me against his chest, stroking my hair, kissing my forehead... his rhythmic breathing calmed me down. He was whispering something in my ear, the sound of which totally relaxed me.. Strange.. i dont remember what he said. Had i known, this would be the last time in his arms, i would have immersed my entire being into him.. so that.. not even death could separate us..He had a way of kissing my forehead, just where the hairline began and making me feel so beautiful.. a feeling that flooded every part of me.. it was so overwhelming.. always.. After i calmed down, we went to bed. He made love to me, like he never had. There was an urgency, as if this would be the last time of our intimacy, the last time we physically shared our beings .. He was patient till i responded. He filled every part of me, leaving nothing to be desired.
I lived my whole life in that one night.And the next day, a freak road accident claimed him. My husband of three years, was gone.. No.. i decide, i wont give away the pink shirt...
