She has become a carefully curated set of memories — tossing out the bad, keeping in the good. I’ll ignore that nagging feeling that says I should honer the complete person, who she really was. I don’t care. This is all I have. I’ll trim every thought, every feeling I have of her until the pain subsides. I’ll put on layer upon layer of love until the hurt turns into pearls. This is how I survive.
Khadim Zaman's Blog 