Under the 41 olive trees

I don’t know how many days have passed. Actually, I am not counting. Half of my brain rejects and doesn’t accept your physical absence. Likewise for WD, even he thinks you have settled on an island and enjoy your days with drinking and beatiful ladies by listening good music far away from all people and extraterrestrials. And that’s why he thinks that someday you’ll send him mail to come to your side to that island. Of course, he thinks to go without telling me by running away from me.

I don’t know how many days have passed, but some things are half. You know, for example sometimes when you’re going to laugh, the edge of your lip wouldn’t curl up and you somehow refuse to laugh. You take a deep breath and wait for the second chance for joy. You can’t laugh long. This is something like this. This has been something like this for last months.

I’ve thought of writing a post about you, but I couldn’t. Because I know there is a fear that when I write, I will really accept your absence. Plus, already what can I write and what can I fit here, if I try to write from in all those years of good friendship? Nonsense. I will never write.

But I know that I don’t need to accept it. I do not intend to accept either. Because you will be with me as long as I breath and walk on this universe.

And someday I will be under those 41 olive trees in that far country, just as we talked about, and you will somehow be with me, with us again. Yes, I will probably drink a lot that day.:) Just like I will raise a glass on your every birthday, our precious earthling friend Dave.

7 thoughts on “Under the 41 olive trees

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