More than a year has passed
And still the bird flits listlessly from bough to bough
Singing hollow songs of happiness

More than a year has passed
And we carry on
Making do with what is left
We can not and do not attempt to fill the space you left
Such herculean tasks are pointless and trivial
So we carry on

We carry on as we open the gate in the dead of night
Awaiting with lamp lit for the last of our number after a days’ wanderings
We wrestle the faulty machine
Finally giving up and replacing it, your tools gathering dust in the drawer
We balance precariously on crude frames
Adjusting fittings and changing light bulbs
Silently we rummage through your various tool stashes
Fixing the plumbing, the car
Then finally calling for help

More than a year has passed
And silence fills the evenings
No arguments over the TV remote or your chair
A new TV adorns the hall by the way, the old one conked out
No lectures on how practical Nigerian films are
Or life lessons from NatGeoWild

More than a year has passed
And your booming laughter is heard in memory
Your voice in song is heard no more.

And we carry on

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