I hope this reaches you in the sky

I never remember the date. I couldn’t even tell you how many years it’s been exactly. But every May 29th there’s a feeling I can’t shake.

I was too young to remember how old I was but my most vivid memory of the day was the smell of jasmines. Your mother crying, my mother crying. The colour of the gravel at church. How big the church was. How small your coffin was.

I don’t remember our first memories together because we’ve been together since before we had memories. You were my father’s best friends son, and by default my best friend. And my god, did we fit right into that role. We were inseparable, by all accounts. Probably why jasmine was what I remember most from your funeral. It was the flower that covered your coffin.

You had the most infectious laugh. I remember how you said the stupidest things and cracked yourself up, no one laughed until you started laughing. When my brother was born, you were already a star in the sky. But I remember my father saying how he laughed exactly like you. He’s 14 now, you would love him.

I remember standing in the back of the car. Your mother driving, mine in the passenger seat; both telling us to sit down. We wouldn’t until we could stretch enough to touch the roof of the car, it felt like we were reaching for the sky. I don’t know if we did it that day. I don’t know if you ever did.

Raindrops races were another classic car ride game. Kerala rains gave us plenty opportunity to glue our faces to the window and figure out with raindrop would drip down the fastest. I don’t remember if it rained during your funeral, but it felt like it did.

I’m so glad you got to see your sister. I remember the photoshoot we did at the studio. The three of us, a family portrait. She was too small to stand up on her own then. She’s graduating college this year and I’m so proud of who she is, proud enough for the both of us.

I didn’t cry at church. I don’t know if I understood yet. My mother told me that you did way too many cartwheels and all your insides got topsy turvy. She didn’t cry till the end either. But when she did, all I could do was comfort her. I understood she was sad beyond I could ever describe in words, but I remember asking her why while the tears rolled down my eyes. Now I know.

I write something about you every year. I’m so afraid of forgetting you. But everytime I start writing I remember how impossible that would be. You were my best friend, my twin and now you’re my star in the sky. I have so many things I wish I could tell you and so many things I wish I could show you, but it’s okay. I’ll have all the more stories to tell you when we meet.

Until then, love

your best friend