I’m so sorry you are dead.
It was so sudden. One moment you were visiting Azerbaijan on a work trip. The next moment, we received a brief note from Saint-Petersburg that you were gone. For good.
It came as a shock. Your well-cared face with an enthusiastic smile came to me in the night as a warning. Life can stop at any moment. Wake up! It kept me up in the night sometimes. The message scared me. Loosing you scared me. I wish there was some sort of forewarning or something.
You seemed so full of life. Was there any sign that this might happen so soon? OK, your marriage wasn’t perfect. And even though you smiled a lot, I gathered things weren’t as shiny in your life. At worst, I thought you might leave your husband one day. When he sent through a short note that you died in a car accident, I wanted to confront him. Who was to blame? Were you driving? Why you? How did it happen?
But what was the point? You were gone.
I still live with that shock. I don’t know whether you can hear me across time and space. But I realise I never told you how much I loved you. It’d be a weird thing to do, right? You came to Azerbaijan four times or so to do some work. But as I got to know you, I felt genuine warmth and affection for you.
They say it’s never too late to say ‘I love you’. I hope they are right.