The day you got here

March 9th. It is around 7:30 pm. I have been thinking more and more about you since yesterday morning. I don't want to believe that it's already been four months since that horrible night, since your departure. I try to not to think about it, but I do on the 8th of every month. I can't believe that my satisfiying obsession with time has become this exhausting and depressing feeling that I don't want to feel anymore. I used to love the way my mind never gave up on specific dates such as the day I had my first kiss with Javad, the day I arrived to Vanvouver and saw javad after years, or the day that you got here. It is today. Two years ago on March 9th, Javad and I were waiting for you. It has even been two years yet. We still have and hour and half to go, to reach the moment that I saw you on that small TV that they have put in the waiting area so people can see if their loved ones are passing through the last security camera. I saw you and I started to cry. I saw you with your longest hair ever. Although it was not that long, it was surely longe than the time back home when you asked me to tie your hair up. Two years ago, I could not believe you were here with us and I can't beleive that you are not here with us now. While in Turkey, you said once on the phone: "I just want to get there, see you guys and die" and I said:"Why are you talking like this. We have many years ahead of us"; well, you were right. You knew. You knew yourself well. Two years ago, we were upset that we had not brought the camera to take your pictures on Vancouver airport. Now, I don't know if it is a good thing that I don't have pictures to look at and cry or if it is this unfortunate thing that I will always regret in my life. Right now, I can't decide. I can't get over the fact that you, yourself, will never with us again. But let me tell you something. After November 8th, I had really upsetting and depressing dreams of you. For the first few weeks I could feel in my dreams that we have lost you forever, but recently I have started to see you as you are here. Sometimes you are sitting with Javad and I, sometimes I saw us back home in Uromieh, in mother's home, having tea and watching TV, sometimes you are lying in our sofa, sleeping with your arms crossed and with an attempt to keep your eyes open to watch the TV.
By the way, yesterday Javad and I went down stairs to your place. Although it was empty but I could still feel you. I also brought your Turkish tapes with some other CDs from Baris Manco. I wanted your place to hear your favorite Turkish singers' voices. I wanted your place to be alive again. I plugged my tape and CD player in the same place that your computer used to be. I wanted to see the last day you had sat behind computer and had listened to Turkish music on pc. I also bring your favorite music whenever I come to see you. Sometimes I also bring tea.
I am finishing here to go to wake Javad up and come to see you. So by the time we get to Fraser cemetary, it will be around 9 pm, around the time I saw you two years ago on that small TV in Vancouver airport.
See you soon,
Cheers
Roghiyeh