one morning, the wind will take you with him...

i feel this odd hurt growing inside me. perhaps i'm slow, perhaps it's the grief.

i keep telling myself i have no reason, no right at all, to feel this grief. i keep telling myself i didn't know her so i should just stop thinking and talking about her and let her be in peace. it doesn't matter others talk, write, think about her, feel her presence, because they should - she knew them personally. i met her once or twice, i was the friend's friend, i was the six-years-younger-cousin her friend, for some reason, got to so well along with.

but every time i write the word well, whichever meaning it has at the time, i think about her and the cold, cold water.

maybe i am slow. maybe i am just now understanding what kind of loss people are experiencing. this bright mind, they say. why this bright mind have to go, why her, who had so many opportunities ahead of her? they ask. maybe i am fully taking it in now.

i can't help but feel inconsiderate because of this.

i want to call my best friend but i'm afraid. i don't know how to talk to her, haven't known how in quite a long time already, but now, especially. what do i say? i keep on wondering what i should talk to her about. i want to ask her if she's going to the wake, but i'm worried she'll somehow take it the wrong way (which way is the wrong way? i'm not too sure, yet i'm still worried).

one morning,

the wind

will take you with him,

to the shore,

where you'll everyday

see the sun.

a look to the world,

the ones who remained of you,

on the two sides of the road,

are still there.

one dawn,

the wind

will take with him the ones

who have waited all night long...

[translation of "Maantee" by Dagö]

i hope she's happy.