wash away the rain

If one day I am gone, can someone please pass my mother a set of my unwashed clothes? I noticed how it helped her cope with the lose of my Atuk. I think it’s the smell – the smell invokes presence, like that someone is still there. I don’t care so much about my belongings – do whatever you want with them. Good things, I hope.

I want you to know how much I love you, too. So much that death is not a separation, it is simply the embodiment of everlasting love – not even marred by the absence. I will be there, I will be around – in thin air, beside you, above you – watching. Smiling. Giggling over how you struggle to water my succulents and tend to my cats.

We don’t last long – the love does. I love you. With all my heart.

A poetic cat
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