Empty house

A poem for my late aunt.

I walk back into the house

you'd been living in,

alone.

The eerie silence greets me

and I feel like I'm missing

a key piece of home.

I wait for you to come out

slowly with your stick beside you

and greet me by saying

"Ha you're here already? kemon aacho ma?"

"I'm good. How are you?"

"I'm just alive somehow."

Now that I know you won't be here

to greet me anymore

or sit in your comfy chair and talk

or yell at something randomly,

I feel like a big reason for my travels

is completely gone, and I feel

helpless and distraught.

We're all strong, not a single tear being shed

We're simply waiting for you to come back

since you've always been so slow.

I remember you washing the clothes

and hanging them perfectly

You said you never had to iron them

"It's all in the hanging technique ma"

You sat on the chair always

"Sofa is bad for my back"

And watched your Bengali serials,

without a single pause.

Your food was always cooked

the house, always cleaned

your frankness was refreshing

your company was serene.

I may not have been that close to you

we visited so less.

We spoke on the phone sometimes

and you always wanted me to come see you.

I couldn't always make it, life and whatnot.

I saw you last, maybe 3 years ago?

I did want to come sooner, believe me,

But life and whatnot, you know?

I came back to the same house

Empty as it should be without you.

I came to pay my final respects

I came in hopes of seeing you.

I hope you're happy now,

and in excellent health, as you should.

Your sickness, gone, your hip restored,

and your mind at ease.

Believe me when I say

That you were a big part of home.

I came to spend time with you

but alas time was much too short.

I wouldn't want to keep you really

The world wasn't kind.

Home feels empty now, I wish I could talk to you

one last time. Or watch your shows alongside you

and hear you ask me to come visit you again.

-Ipshita Pal