there, darkness is darkness

i miss her terribly too, but oftentimes i realised that the longing, or even grief that had manifested themselves in physical, conscious reality always lacked the kind of intensity that existed within my visceral realms - the very nooks in me that is rarely articulated and never intruded upon. it's also only at night that i think of jin, and of my grandmother too. i remember how in the first few years after granny's death i would be perfectly alright in the day and then start missing her when i was tucked in bed. of course, the darkness of night lends itself easily to the musings and ruminations of death, to draw our gaze unto the latent spectres of it. maybe it's just that only night could pause us - if just for a few short hours, in between our harried races of mortal, quotidian life - to reflect on the things otherwise darkened and concealed by the blinding lights of day. and it's upon these nocturnal reminiscences that a strangely restful sanctuary is created, providing a brief respite for the remembrance of things and people passed, and even perhaps, a bulwark for our atrophying souls. until of course dawn cracks and the night ends, hurling us back into breathing life's callous machinery. this it repeats, until our own lights in us fizzle into still, silent opacity. there, darkness is darkness. i like to think that by missing and thinking of jin, i'm bringing a little light into that darkness, bringing a little smile to her lips. inevitably then, i too, smile through my tears.