The last of the firsts.

Yesterday we went to the coast for the first time since my brother died. We used to all go to the coast together every year. At least one trip if not more. Hire a house by the beach. Drink wine. Play Pictionary. Take walks on the beach at sunset. Just for a couple of days. But they were perfect days.

It was hard this time around. As one would expect. It's always hard to do something for the first time since you last shared the same experience with someone you love. Knowing it will never be the same again. I felt sad knowing how much my son would've enjoyed having him there.

And then it dawned on me, one day soon... all the firsts will end. This was the first time we went down the beach without him. But the next time won't be. This trip to the coast was special. The next one won't be. And soon.. one day, there will be no more firsts.

I remember the first time I ate a Toblerone after his death, the first time I drank Veuve Cliquot without him. The first time I went to Sydney and didn't have him come to pick me up from the bus station. Now going to Sydney is just going to Sydney. 

The first time I'll go back to India will be emotional. The first time I used his camera. The first time I drove his car. The first time I will visit Switzerland. The first time I eat puchkas.

It's strange how the first time you do something without the one you love, you still feel somehow tethered to them. It's like you still share this sacred space. The bond is weaker, but it's still there. The second time, it's almost gone. The second time a little bit more of them has just been wiped away.

The first call I made to share the news about his death... was to my parents. The first call I ever received from his climbing buddy Adrian, was to tell me that he was dead.

The firsts won't last forever. But then again, nothing does.