people think i always write about my lovers, but really i’m constantly writing about you

filmphotography

Nov 22

this is how i will always remember you
dressed in the beautiful garments you designed
a softness finding home on your kind porcelain face
your hands always giving and giving and giving and–

–and mámie, i’ve always wanted to ask:
*what happens when it all runs out?*

i came home to visit for the weekend and you immediately went out into the garden with a flashlight to pluck pears for me to eat. over the years, we’ve displayed your photographs in multiple temples and on countless altars, but none of them captured the essence of you like this one. dad said we couldn’t use this because it’s too homey and not professional enough. i didn’t understand 8 years ago. i still don’t understand now.

people ask me why i still grieve you every year and i can only respond by saying, “loss is different for everyone.” and though that is true, it isn’t the reason for you and me. there are still so many things i’ve never been able to vocalize, so many images that have been burned into my brain and taken refuge in my nightmares. one day, one day i promise i’ll tell your story. one day i’ll be brave enough, trusting enough, worthy enough. one day yellow chrysanthemums will bloom in all the memories i have of us, of you.

but until then, i’ll dream of you laying my head on your lap and gently stroking my hair.