When she was here

She passed away, of a sudden heart attack 18 months ago, and the house is full of her presence.nbsp;The last note she8217;d left near my toothbrush was: 8220;A: Wake me at 6:30 am, G8221;.nbsp; I have left that note exactly where she8217;d placed it.nbsp;

There is a crossword puzzle she8217;d left half-solved. I have kept that too, the way it was. Some mornings, when emotions well up, I use her toothpaste tube instead of mine. It is almost empty now, and I dread the day when I will extract the last half inch of her paste. It would be a wrench just as her sudden passing was. She pops up in family photos: of our honeymoon in Kashmir in 1961 and those of our silver wedding anniversary two decades ago, and of holidays. The void feels deeper then.

It was our practice to mark newspaper or magazine articles that would be needed as reference and she8217;d do the clipping and separate them, one pile for G and one for A. The last pile marked G is left intact; she has not made use of it. I say hello to her whenever I pass the portals of the neighbourhood school where she was the principal and skip a beat when I pass the local Chung Wah restaurant where she had felt unwell that fateful day and we had to rush her to the doctor.

Sorry again, about that nail clipper, G.nbsp;R.I.P.