Reflections, Banter and the Honest Truth

 I wake up to the sounds of the birds in the neem tree outside my window, the neighbour's dog yelping even before the sun has started to warm the streets, the milkman blowing his noisy horn while he rides around the neighbourhood.  The ladies in their nighties, with towels draped over their shoulders,  go outside with their shiny steel vessels, to have it filled with fresh, and creamy milk. This followed by a cacophony of sounds, as the ladies in the neighbourhood, talk to each other over the walls, across the streets, shouting at Jimmy, who has scampered out of the compound while she was engaged in a long chat with the milkman. And this is how my day begins, lying in bed, trying to block out the sounds with my thin bedsheet. I finally decide to get out of bed, look at the photograph on the shelf near the foot of my bed-'Gerard smiling', drink a glass of water, open the doors, unlock the gate, and go to the terrace to get a bit of sun. I look into the distance, at the squir

It is 3 months since my husband, partner and best friend passed on..... And our lives will never quite be the same again.  I hear people (who just want me to feel some kind of comfort) tell me that he will always be there, or that he is watching over us. I think that it takes the loss of a loved one to know that there is nothing like actually having that person be able to touch you or be physically present.  We miss - How he spent time with the girls and me I asked if with his friends he would rather be, I want to be here and I don't want to go  I can surely meet them tomorrow. How he would sit on the bed in his pensive mood About religion and discipline we often argued. And he'd bring down his guitar from the wall, To sings some tunes with him his daughters he'd call. Storms Never Last and Sister Golden Hair  His nasal singing voice, and then he'd declare  Don't I have a good voice, Sugar? We would smile and even he would then snigger. He'd scream at us all if