Half my life ago, my late grandfather had to bury the love of his life.

Ta'burnee, I had heard him say it to her once. He told me it literally means "You bury me."

I saw the sentiment of the phrase on his face as he leaned over her still body, touching his lips so gently to her wrinkled forehead, ever so careful not to let a tear drop onto her.

How could he let her last moments with him be showered with his sadness? Only love, he had promised himself.

You bury me.

God willing, I would rather go before you because I know I would not survive without you. You bury me because I love life, and it is not life without you.

What good are my eyes if I am not able to see you anymore? I would go deaf if I am not able to hear your voice. I would not feel, or smell or taste. My life would be reduced to a purpose of existence, an existence so light, it is empty.

You bury me because I am not strong enough to endure the pain of being incomplete.

You bury me because I need you more than you need me. Because even though I've gone, I will always be with you. I will always look after you.

You bury me because I cannot stay without you. I don't want to stay without you.

See me off after our life together. With no regrets, my love. See me off with our love for each other, and please love me still. God willing we will see each other again.

So you bury me, love.

Half my life later, as we buried him we hoped they have found each other again.