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Harmony in Hindsight: Lovemary's Unfinished Song
Harmony in Hindsight: Lovemary's Unfinished Song
In the sanctuary of Lovemary's memory, my heart resonates with the haunting melodies of our unfulfilled love story. Rewinding time, I reminisce about the days when we flourished together in the embrace of our shared faith, united as members of the same prayer cell including the Legio Maria. Your presence was a captivating symphony, your rounded countenance, sparkling eyes, and flawlessly sculpted figure a perpetual gravitational force.
Wherever you went, my thoughts irresistibly drifted toward you, and the aura of your soul drew me ceaselessly. In the sacred confines of our church, I would rhythmically play the three-in-one drums, captivated by the dulcet tones of your voice and the soft strikes of the koikoi, a two-stick instrument. Saturdays unfolded stolen moments beneath the guava tree in our backyard, where we exchanged unspoken sentiments, too tender and bashful to articulate the depth of our connection.
Separated by physical distance, our hearts transcended the miles, pulsating in harmonious unity. Even amid the challenges of high school and the strains of university life, our love endured. Mid-term breaks unfolded as cherished reunions, heightened by the disapproval of her mother if I failed to visit during seminary breaks. Yet, as time unfurled, the warmth of our once-vibrant relationship gave way to a chilling distance marked by accusations of abandonment.
Then, a seismic revelation from her cousin – Lovemary's impending union with a man she encountered in university. The ceremony unfolded without my presence, and shortly thereafter, a cruel turn of fate snatched her away. A premature labor, complications, and the heartbreaking loss of both mother and child left me grappling with the harsh realities.
Years have elapsed, but Lovemary's memory remains ensconced in the recesses of my heart. The poignant question persists – why did we release our grip? In an alternate reality, our love story might have blossomed into a resplendent symphony, and perhaps she would have continued to grace this world. The ache of "what could have been" reverberates in the echoes of her absence, a poignant melody of a love left unfulfilled.
© Aquilo-Dominic G. Udo
In the sanctuary of Lovemary's memory, my heart resonates with the haunting melodies of our unfulfilled love story. Rewinding time, I reminisce about the days when we flourished together in the embrace of our shared faith, united as members of the same prayer cell including the Legio Maria. Your presence was a captivating symphony, your rounded countenance, sparkling eyes, and flawlessly sculpted figure a perpetual gravitational force.
Wherever you went, my thoughts irresistibly drifted toward you, and the aura of your soul drew me ceaselessly. In the sacred confines of our church, I would rhythmically play the three-in-one drums, captivated by the dulcet tones of your voice and the soft strikes of the koikoi, a two-stick instrument. Saturdays unfolded stolen moments beneath the guava tree in our backyard, where we exchanged unspoken sentiments, too tender and bashful to articulate the depth of our connection.
Separated by physical distance, our hearts transcended the miles, pulsating in harmonious unity. Even amid the challenges of high school and the strains of university life, our love endured. Mid-term breaks unfolded as cherished reunions, heightened by the disapproval of her mother if I failed to visit during seminary breaks. Yet, as time unfurled, the warmth of our once-vibrant relationship gave way to a chilling distance marked by accusations of abandonment.
Then, a seismic revelation from her cousin – Lovemary's impending union with a man she encountered in university. The ceremony unfolded without my presence, and shortly thereafter, a cruel turn of fate snatched her away. A premature labor, complications, and the heartbreaking loss of both mother and child left me grappling with the harsh realities.
Years have elapsed, but Lovemary's memory remains ensconced in the recesses of my heart. The poignant question persists – why did we release our grip? In an alternate reality, our love story might have blossomed into a resplendent symphony, and perhaps she would have continued to grace this world. The ache of "what could have been" reverberates in the echoes of her absence, a poignant melody of a love left unfulfilled.
© Aquilo-Dominic G. Udo
