One year ago today I was sitting in a coffee shop when I got the news that Mattia had died. Today I feel it all over again. My heart physically hurts from the grief.
I am curled up on the sofa, with my laptop, listening to Timos chatting with his friends on the phone. Garen is at work with a busy day. Zade is at his home preparing for the next semester. And I am the only one hurting. The only one remembering. It makes it feel outside reality, and in some ways I guess it is.
Zade only met Mattia once, briefly, not enough to form any kind of connection. If I were to remind him today that Mattia is gone he would feel a moment of sadness, but that's just because Z is such a good person.
With Timos it's a bit more complicated. He never knew this person, his brother by blood, so he feels like he SHOULD have more feelings than he does, but how is that even possible? Feelings are forged by time and shared moments, which Timos never got to have. For so long I felt such a frantic rush to get T to Uganda so he could meet his brother, his closest blood relative. But Covid intervened and stole so much more from us than we could have guessed it would.
Garen never had the privilege of meeting Mattia, but he still felt a responsibility for this person who was only family because Timos is our family. GG made plans with me and dreamed with me of bringing Mattia here to be with us. But their bond was waiting to be made. Knowing my Garen the way I do, I know he would have loved Mattia so much.
And that leaves me. Me alone on the couch with a broken heart. Me alone remembering what could have been. I have all our messages, Mattia's and mine, saved on my phone. I didn't want to get a new one until I was sure those would transfer. They are all I have left of our short time together. And now I find myself in this strange place where most of my memories are actually dreams and hopes and plans and not moments we got to have. Now all I have left is to pray for Mattia's soul.
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