Today, I miss my best friend a lot.
I miss how we could talk for hours, how we laugh over simple things. I miss his big hugs every time we met. I miss his great cooking. I miss the way he said that I’m a brave girl and called me his little sister. I miss listen to his interesting life story, how he spent his life in Indonesia between the 1950’s and 1970’s, how he loved Indonesia. I miss seeing his true love for his wonderful wife.
He had promised me he would be here when I came back home. He wished me a happy visit with my parents in Indonesia. One time I talked to him over Skype, he looked cheerful and healthy. He asked me if I could buy an Indonesian map on batik cloth for him. I did buy and sent it for him. But then a sad news came: he’s gone. Cancer took him away from us last May.
When I came back to Canada, I knew my life in this little town would no longer be the same. My best friend has gone. I lost my best friend that I often I saw as my second father. It was definitely a big lost for me. I know how hard it was for his wife. They had been together for more than 50 years. I could imagine that her loss must be like losing half of her soul.
Last week, I visited his house as it was my turn to take care the place while his wife is away for a long holiday. I was in his kitchen, his favourite place. His domain. A place where he cooked great food for me, pampered me with Indonesian dishes that sometimes I hardly know. Although cooking Indonesian dishes is time consuming, he made sure he did it right from the scratch. It was a no way for him to use instant ingredients. My husband and I always commented, that’s so him being perfectionist and a German.
I was in his home office. His new iMac looked cold, untouched. I remember how we spent a lot of time there as he wanted me to teach him how to use it. Sometimes he got frustrated because his memory was not a sharp as before the cancer treatments. I told him it was okay, I even tend to forget things also and my age is only half of his.
The house was so quiet yet not cold. The house still has a soul, a warm welcome one. Somehow I could feel his presence there. It was still like the house I used to visit, so warm and open. Just like when he was still around. His loving memories linger there. The only different is no his big hug to welcome me. Now I can only see his picture hanging on the wall. Hence, I sensed he is still near by.
We never bid a good bye.
Now I know why. Apparently we never far apart. He stays close to my heart, for always.