This feels weird - this struggle, this struggle to type and write and express and then worry about not wanting to hit the publish button. This I never felt with any other "blogs" because this is where I felt "that".

It feels like I have come back home or at least some place familiar. It is like entering a room, covered in white sheets and dust of memories (like the ones they show in the movies), and then finding it the same as you had left it. But the room has changed of course. Change is inevitable.

And I have changed. Tonight, I may possibly lose someone whom I acquired love and respect for. Nothing about the fact that we were related ever convinced me to love and respect her back - I did it because I loved and respected her for who she was - a woman who lived her life, lived her "dukha", sang her loss, forgot and remembered in loops...

I hope she is feeling at peace - her peace being her "dukha" - the magnanimous, resilient yet insignificant and significant at the same time.

I will remember you always.