You do not die to deal with the dead. Neither do you escape the memories. You soak up in them. The memories feed on you. And you feed on them. You eat the foods he liked. You drink the wines he treasured. You buy the brands he liked. You wear the colours he wore. You draw his picture a thousand times and yet, forget to put the smile. Your body loses weight. Your mind gains. But reality is only a very short time. It flies off quickly. And then he pays you the visit. In your dreams. Every night. He looks exactly like how he always did. The smiles. The dimples. The chewable chin. The long hard fingers. The pendant that cuts through. The dirty mark below the eye. The unforgivable Adam’s apple. And there wouldn’t be the lifeless eyes. There wouldn’t be the horrified glance. There wouldnt be the bloodied mouth.There wouldn’t be the stillness. He moves. You move. You live.