When memories are everything.

“Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal," someone who read my blog sent this. He said it was on an Irish headstone. 
Just as I thought I was getting back to normal after my recent trip to my nephew and his family in Kuala Lumpur, memories of my beloved niece came back to remind me yet again of my, sorry, our loss. What followed was more sobbing and tears as I steered my way entirely on muscle memory to my place of work. I don't know how I got there. Now this is the new normal for me. Something I am learning to live with. If she wishes to revisit me like this every single day, so be it. I will always be in good company.
I will take you back a few days when I visited Ghazi at his home in KL. Just as I walked through the door, he opened up his arms and we hugged each other and both of us couldn't hold back our tears. We talked about her also during dinner. Kiran had set the table for dinner -- for one, just me. They had their dinner since I got there way past midnight.  Ghazi wanted me to take the guest room, but I insisted that I want to be by myself. As I left Ghazi and made my way home, I was wondering if I helped unload his grief or did he mine. 
Their two kids are my darling so I looked forward to spend time with them the next day over breakfast. I suggested we drive to Rajoo for a brunch and we did. It was all well. In fact it was a terrific meal. I felt cheerful enough to shave and put on a new tee shirt, and face. I even switched my WhatsApp account for a while to send a message to everyone who knew what I have been going through that I have healed. I was wrong. I want her memories and I cherish those. My grief is very dear to me. 
Let it be.