Hello, goodbye

6.30 pm on a Thursday
in the middle of April
I sit on the sofa
in the hall
Suddenly reminded of
you in your aaram-khurchi
Your eyes closed,
your breaths as even as
the pitter-patter of
early June showers.
My memory,
instead of filling in your absence,
makes it even more apparent.
I remember that
on one of my visits
you simply weren't there anymore
and it didn't make a difference
to me.
Does it, now?
I don't know.
But it did, that Thursday evening.
Everyone was home,
but the house was empty.