ECHO

you thought you have enough time — but you don’t

My nose detected that unmistakable mixture of peony and vodka. Some random shopper on my left just sprayed her wrist with the vivid pink juice. I cringed, remembering my own unrefined high school days taste and shook my head in embarrassment for my past self.

Then I remembered. Oh. That was your favorite. You asked me what I was wearing and then you bought one, too.

The first time I met you, I knew in an instant that you’re The One. I don’t know why or how, but my gut was telling me that you’re here to stay. And I wasn’t wrong.

You stayed.

Only for a while, but you stayed.

Lately I have a hard time remembering your voice. And I’m scared there will come a time where I forget about it completely. The way you laughed, the way you called my name. It’s there in my brain somewhere but they become unrecognizable with each passing day.

I miss you. I miss days when you taught me how to bake. Cakes and cookies. Us giggling in the kitchen trying to figure out how my mom’s oven works. Us cracking jokes about my family while sprinkling some cheese on top of things.

But most of all, I wanted to say I’m sorry.

I’m sorry we didn’t find out about your illness sooner.

I’m sorry I didn’t visit you more often when I could.

I’m sorry I was so angry with you because you got sick that I refused to hug you one last time.

I’m sorry I never said “I love you” because I thought we have all the time in world.

I’m sorry. I know it’s not of use right now, but I’m sorry.

And I love you so.

In memory of Puti Faradila Manggarini, February 5th 1981 —October 4th 2009. A dearly beloved wife, daughter, and sister-in-law. We miss you, Teh Put.