it was almost noon by the time that we remembered. an oh-by-the-way kind of moment. you were watching a tv program where contestants fling themselves into the air while i was reading a book where the characters fling themselves against each other (with all these flinging around us, it is ironic how we desperately try to hold on to our own private spaces).
you were actually the one that remembered, just before the winner is announced. you turned your head away from the tv to look at me and said ‘its the death anniversary of your father today’.
‘oh’ i replied, looking up from the book that i was trying to escape to, right before you turned your attention back to your show. it was the best i can muster, an ‘oh’. i would have liked to feel a mild panic, or a sort of guilt, or maybe even a hint of sadness, but unfortunately i could not come up with something appropriate. except for an oh.
‘we should go to the cemetery later’ you said, trying to engage me and maybe share some of the guilt you are feeling from forgetting this date.
but i did not respond. i have used the last of my ohs and it is too much of an effort to come up with anything else. i am deeply sorry. but unlike the due dates of my bills, the deadlines of my projects, and maybe even the schedule of the cinema screenings, the date of his passing does not stir me to do or feel anything. for all i felt all those years ago was relief. relief, and nothing else. forgive me.