Hiraeth

"Hiraeth"

Hiraeth- a noun referring to homesickness for a home which may have never been or for a home to which you can never return to. 

Dear Diary,

If I could see the murmurs and whispers, it would be in a form of a gray fog stretching from the sides of the casket to its opposite side of the room. The noise was in a threshold of irritating yet tolerable. The words I heard had a cold touch upon my nape- like droplets of morning dew, I squeezed my palm to stay awake and not let those morning dew touch my eyes and collectively turn into tears once again.

 I sat beside the open blinds and let the breeze dry the traces of salty water lined on my cheeks. Ray was on the other side of the room, quiet in the middle of the fog of faint sounds. He never wanted me to smoke, still I reached for a pack of Camel Lights in my pocket and put one stick on my mouth. I've put the killing thing between my teeth and gave it the power to fill me with something, to ease the gaping hole within.

 I received his letter three days before he arrived, it is only now that I had the strength to read it despite the strength I had to smoke two packs until this time.

 Papercut. Red stained the part of the paper I held. I unfolded it and let the offcuts of my heart crumble into smaller fragments once more.

   "Love,

          As one here lies in confrontation of death, clinging on every probability that this letter may never be of use, however the urge to make one isn't just a probability- it is a responsibility I have took upon myself, as I have been walking on the stage of this thing we call life and towards its nonexistence. I've had my fill from the culmination of all my earthly pain and prejudices. Yet, I'll never leave complete. 

  Terror will soon be leaving town to meet us halfway. I totally understand why our captain ordered us to write yet I tremble upon the thought that if this letter reaches you, I am already a carcass waiting to rot in the theater of war. And the worst of it all, it also means I never had the time to show you just how much I really did love you. But you know I did. 

I should've wrote more but the climate here isn't the most favorable for ink and paper. I always have the thought of having you in my arms again- you and our daughter. For the last six months, all I have been thinking about was you and your lips, and all those things going on in your mind; probably tonight before I drift off, I'll be thinking of them again. I've been avoiding temptations despite the frequent offer of my comrades. I have been faithful- I want no woman other than the one whom I've shared half of my life with, staring at the night sky and dreaming of everything else that matters, funny that when we start appreciating everything above us, everything else doesn't seem to be important anymore. You were my best friend. 

There are a lot of things I regret so much, it's not those things I did but those I should've done or did more often. I should've pulled you to nearby book sales and bought you novels to keep you company. We should've danced longer under the streetlights on our way home from dinner. I should've brought home flowers, not bullet scars. I should've let you melt in my chest a little longer. A little longer that you permeate this battle worn skin down to the creaking rib cages, deteriorating from hunger and longing for the thing that fills my chest; down, deeper until you reach my heart and then we'll kiss and let our breath synchronize while gasping for air and life which we can only find from each other.

Denial.

 I'm clinging to hope. I still wanted to come home and that this letter wouldn't be much of any purpose than to serve as a reminder that once I have pictured myself almost taking the arms of death. I have planned out everything. After this war, I was supposed to retire from service and spend the rest of my life with you. 

Acceptance.

It is fine to mourn but please don’t die along with me. I was a chapter in your book, you’ve got so much time to live. Your life isn’t over. I loved my family, I loved my country and I Loved You. You can cry, it was you who taught me not to be afraid to shed a tear anyway, just don’t forget to stand up once again; fulfill your dreams. The last request I have for you to honor the life I lost is to live yours.

I’ve got so much to say but the dawn is about to come. I’ll still be yours in the 'morrow. 

        They say every soldier has the other feet buried below the ground, how can I say that when all of me was left with you...

        I love you."

Life left me no choice and no one.

       I held back a tear. I was tired of everything. The world was against me. I was longing for my home despite of knowing that it’ll never come again. I was in my trance, my hiraeth. Everything was painful like a tumor swelling but backwards, constricting every cell into one spot, trying to pull every piece of meat and blood into my center. I was a void swallowing myself. I guess this is what stars feel when they die. They’re light-years away, alone and dying; black holes were broken hearts.

      Most of the stars we see in the night sky were what’s left of their explosion when they died out, their lights just had been trapped in time which makes them appear to have an appointed place in heaven. Like a dead star, I smiled at the crowd, although it’s been long since I’ve been dead.

     I walked towards the casket and touched the firm glass separating me from my star crossed lover. 

“I’ll be yours in the ‘morrow.” I whispered under my breath.