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The sun had barely peaked out from the clouds, behind the trees and mountains when I roused from my sleep. I sat up and stretched, hearing my back pop and creak like any other morning.
With a sigh, I start my day.
I go through the motions, as well as I can with each passing day, my body growing more and more weary with age.
I'll forever wonder how my hands still work so well these days, and I'll be forever thankful for that fact.
After getting dressed I make a cup of tea, staring out the window as I hear the kettle whistle.
The sun's a bit higher now, basking the sky in yellows and orange, with a hint of blue. Morning mist can still be seen.
I sit on the porch, taking a few sips and listening to the wind chime above me.
I made it months ago now.
Made a month after Alhaitham passed away in his sleep, by my side.
I remember it was not much different than any other morning, perhaps not as chilly as now.
It wasn't much different, except for the fact I'd lost the love of my life that day.
And with the empty days and countless hours I now had to spend by myself, I decided to pick up a new hobby.
Carving.
----
I place the third bird I've carved now next to the other two, all sitting proud. I realize with a frown that they are just copy cats of each other.
It's hard to be creative these days.
But picking up carving had kept me grounded in reality, the repetition in my strokes with the carving knife and rough feeling of the wood in my hand.
It was easy to just pick up a block of wood and the knife and lose myself in the motions of carving whatever I could see in my eye through the layers of the wood.
Looking around the house, it reminded me of when I first moved in. It looks like a decorative nightmare, all the haphazard sculptures of various things strewn about the place.
I squeeze my eyes closed, already hearing Alhaitham in my head.
It reminded me of when I first moved in.
The wound of his death still feels too fresh, even though it has nearly been a year. I hate to admit it but I still get choked up by just remembering anything about him.
I couldn't even stay in the house the first few weeks, I stayed at Tighnari and Cynos home.
I couldn't bear seeing his empty seat, his clean mugs and untouched books.
I couldn't bear seeing the space that once held so much, holding nothing but memories.
But, maybe because of age, or maybe because we talked so much about what would happen when one of us passes away first, I came to accept reality with time and tears.
I wonder what he's thinking, if he's maybe chuckling at the fact he passed first when I was so sure it would be me who'd kick the bucket before him, with being older and all.
I pause in my carving, eyes drifting to the sky as I watch.
Clear blue skies, like any other day.
Like any other afternoon.
-----
I've started gifting some of the carvings, and also cutting back on the hobby itself. I tried painting and clay molding again, but it just didn't scratch the same itch carving did.
But I still find myself often with the need to do something, make something.
With all this empty time I don't know what to do with myself.
And I find my mind wondering.
Back to when I had everything.
I find myself in front of the mirror, faced with just how much has changed.
The slouch seemingly ever present in my posture, the wrinkles carved deep into my face, my long gray hair spilling over my shoulders, a few golden strands still present.
How much I wish I could smile again.
----
I hiss as I nick myself with the carving blade, again, for the hundredth time it seems.
I look at my palms with all the new nicks and scratches I have, turning them over to see where the new one is now.
It's on my pointer finger, it bleeds lazily and I huff. It doesn't seem like much and probably doesn't even need a bandage.
My eyes trace all the wrinkles I have on my knuckles, I close my eyes and rub my palms together.
They're rough, rougher now since I've started carving. Though they always had a certain roughness due to drawing, painting and more, due to being an architect.
I'd remember how Alhaitham...
I don't know anymore, I don't know what to think, what to say or what to do anymore.
My hands reach to grab clumps of my hair as I feel myself cave in and shatter, hoarse sobs leaving my throat as I crumple in the chair of our shared desk, shared office.
I miss him more than anything, more than a dying man misses water in the desert or how a caged bird misses the sky.
I want to hold him, I want him to hold me, I want to hear his voice and have him hear my words. I need his hand in mine and to kiss the crease between his brows.
I want him.
But in my last days he won't be here, as I was there for him.
And I don't know what to do with myself until my time comes.
I don't know what to do with the memories of a beautiful life I have lived and shared, that will now come to pass, that has passed with my love.
I want to remember it all and hold it close but it burns like a hot iron, searing my very soul and pouring and pouring blood from my heart.
I don't want to remember Alhaitham, I don't want to just have the memories.
I need him.
But I'm left with an empty house, dusty books and untouched mugs.
Littered with sawdust and carvings.
----
It's sunset as I sit out on the porch with a blanket covering my lap to warm me from the cold breeze, my hands shaky on the carving knife and block of wood in my hands.
The cities basked in dusk, orange reds and purple as stars started to dance in the sky.
Beside me are many assortments of carvings, with a sign with "free to take" written on it.
The last two days I barely remember, I know I had a pretty bad mental breakdown and that it was rough.
But when the fog cleared I still didn't have many answers.
But I had a thought, maybe it would be better to just feel it all. To remember all the moments and memories I put off or closed myself off to.
Because the reality is that they are all I have now, no matter how much that pains me to realize.
I look to my side at the carvings on the porch, about 15 of them.
Some carvings of falcons, other birds, fake wooden books, mushrooms, flowers, cups, and a single new wooden wind chime.
I chuckle and shake my head with an even shakier smile, how ironic.
I'd never thought much of what I would carve, but they really all seemed to tie back to him.
No matter the memory, no matter the time in my life, there was always a thread that would lead me back to him.
I don't think I'll ever move on from his death, but why should I? No matter how much time passes, no matter how many days I have left.
I'll still have our memories, memories to relive, to cry to, to hold dear to my heart until I draw my last breath.
As I focus my gaze on the block and carving knife in my hands again, I wondered what I should carve next with a smile.
----
In Sumeru, just off the path near the Palace of Alcazarzaray, sits the shared grave of Alhaitham, one the previous Scribes and then later Grand Sage of the Akademiya, and Kaveh, the once renowned architect of the Palace of Alcazarzaray and lovingly nicknamed the 'light of Kshahrewar' in his lifetime.
A single marble stone slab sits tall with intricate carvings resembling some key designs and architecture Sumeru is known for, that Kaveh is known for, with some personal touches as well.
Dancing lines creating patterns, inlaid carvings resembling intricate stained glass. Feathers and leaves seemingly dancing between the lines.
A detailed carving of a familiar house sits above their names near the top.
A rich dark wooden carving of a bird of paradise and a falcon sit perched on top, leaning on each other and slotted together.
A fresh bouquet of mourning flowers sits by the foot of the grave in a small white vase.
Just off the path near the Palace of Alcazarzaray, hidden away, sits the shared grave of two lovers, reunited again.
Carved in the center in two different handwritings it reads,
"I will see you again, my arms forever open, I'll wait forever if I need.
Wait no longer, I'm home."