Sukhi
5.9K posts
Injection the alleged gangster went to the Pakistani groomer's house and behaved like his saala. 😂
Jiju please open the door
English
Dear Mamma,
Today it’s been ten years since we had our very last conversation.
It doesn’t feel like it. It feels a little like it was yesterday. And for the past ten years most days have felt like “yesterday.”
It’s strange, that saying “time heals all wounds.” In this case the large open wound has, over time, become a scar. A scar that is sometimes tender, sometimes painful, and that is a constant reminder. I don’t think I’ve gotten over it, but I may have found ways to accept that you’re no longer here.
I know that if there was anyone who would have thought, “for goodness’ sake, let me be dead and live your own life,” it would have been you. I remember we talked about that.
What, for me, ultimately became “our last conversation” was when we cried in each other’s arms because you wanted to talk about death just a few weeks before it came on our doorsteps. You wanted me to live on the day you were no longer here.
Maybe you knew something I didn’t know back then. I’ve thought about that many times over the course of these years.
The last ten years I have both lived and survived. There have been days when I didn’t want to live, and days when I allowed myself to move forward a little. At least for moments. Sometimes it has felt good; other times I've felt guilt.
Mostly because we never got to say goodbye.
It was just so sudden. One Sunday ten years ago you were simply gone, and I was left holding o to your two gold earrings and the reading glasses you always kept on the nightstand. That was all that was left.
This has been the subject of what seems like countless therapy sessions, late-night conversations with myself. Conversations where I hope you would show up with some kind of answer, then take a drag of your cigarette. The smell of cigarette smoke is perhaps the one thing I don’t miss, when I think about it.
It’s been ten years since I smelled it—at least in harmony with your dark humor, your kind advice, and your unconditional love.
You always said, “you and me, Jonas… you and me.” Now it’s just me. Though I'll carry you in my heart forever.
So that this isn’t only horribly heavy and painful to read, I finally got the last joke you left me. I always thought you died in September because it didn’t coincide with anything special.
But I’ve heard your little chuckle over every stereo system whenever I’ve been out and “Earth, Wind & Fire” asks everyone, “do you remember the 21st night of September?” Only too well…
Over time I’ve learned to smile along. Because, as you always said: “we’ve cried long enough — now it’s time we try to laugh a little too.”
I miss you — and I love you.
As much now as on that day in 2015.
Rest in peace, Mamma.
Love you.
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Two pairs of tickets to giveaway to the @Carabao_Cup Final! 🔴🏆⚫️
How to enter:
➊ Follow @90min_Football
➋ Reply saying 'Newcastle' or 'Man United' depending on which tickets you'd prefer.
Two winners will be chosen Saturday.
#CarabaoCupFinal | UK Only | 18+ | T&Cs below.
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Me blowing up the group chat in the morning because i’m always the first to wake up twitter.com/br_betting/sta…
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@burty2603 rice couldn’t lace his boots. It’s still fuck the glazers. Time to go.
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