I Am Here

For the month of July I am staying in the city of Busan, about 2 hours from where I live. It is a coastal city, and Korea's 2nd largest city (after Seoul). This is my first time back without Gareth. I've had first times back to other places. About a month after he died, I returned to Hadong for the first time. A first time to return to a place brings with it a whole flood of memories and then the grief that follows. All this gets unpacked or pushed aside while taking in and experiencing the actual events of here and now. It's a heavy load, really. Not impossible. Just heavy.

It's hard to return to places for the first time. Then it gets a bit easier. And a bit easier. And soon my own non-Gareth related experiences are painted right on top and over the ones I had with him. They're still there. But they're not what everybody sees anymore, including me.

Walking around Busan National University's area tonight, I was feeling the heaviness of my grief. It was a little hard to put my finger on what it was exactly, and then I saw this sign:

I am here.
The sign says so.
Here I am.
I am here.

I am in Busan.
We were here.
Four times.
I am driving past
the coffee shop near
Jalgachi Market where
you were impressed
with the sight of a single
tree below. You wrote
about it and how it
reminded you of
Christchurch. I am
driving past that
tree. I can see up into
the window where you sat.
I am here.

I am here.
I am walking along
the beach at night.
Weaving past couples
holding hands and
taking selfies. 
We were here.
I am sand in my toes.
We were sparklers
spinning and an old
man laughing while
we danced.

I am here where
Christmas lights
hung one December.
You photographed me
near a tree made of
bright white bulbs.
I was smiling, swinging
shopping bags full of
your presents. Your
presence. You were
here. I can see our
shadows where we stood.


I am here.
I am stepping on
and off subways.
I am climbing stairs
and turning corners.
I am city air and
swelling noise and
people pushing and
lights blinking and
ocean waves slapping.

I am still while
everything
else is moving past.
In this place,
I am still.

I am
still
here.

And you are not.