Time heals everything,

so they say. I disagree.
Time just dulls everything. It makes you go about in that daily routine and somehow you find yourself burying the memories deep inside till you reach a stage when you can reopen your wounds and not feel that searing pain, but just a dull ache.
It’s been 8 months now since my brother left us so suddenly. And it’s okay now; I can talk about it to people without the tears welling up. But there are moments when I’m caught unaware. Whenever I read any piece of news that has a height metric in it. The moment I see xxxx metres tall, I think of 30 metres deep. That’s where they found his body. 30 metres deep. 100 feet. I think of how many 6 foot men should stand on top of each other to reach that depth. I catch my breath and bite that trembling lip willing hard not to let the tears start. Who could have predicted that such a tragedy would befall him? We go through life thinking that all such things happen to ‘other people’ and when suddenly it happens to us we are shell shocked. I cannot enter a swimming pool now without a momentary catch in my throat. The moment I dip my head into the water and stop breathing, I start panicking. Will I drown? Is this how he felt? How long would he have struggled? It takes all my determination to actually open my eyes under water and I force myself to swim knowing that if I succumb to this fear once, then that’s it. I will never get into the water again. For him, I WILL swim. I will not be afraid and break down.
I have just one prayer. Wherever he is God, keep him safe.
Let him be at peace for we who remain can never hope to be.