I wrote the first part of this a couple of days after Imran’s passing. I wrote the next part a few days ago. Writing about Imran has been the most difficult thing I have had to do. But I felt I couldn’t move on to anything else until I did.
In the days since his death, I have been searching for the words, looking for a place to start. Every time I formulate something in my mind, or I try to clear the mist, it seems woefully inadequate. There seems to be nothing in the spaces except grief, heartbreak and shock. I cannot think of him without the tears. Even though the time Imran and I spent together were some of the best moments of my life, it is hard to remember them in the face of the hurt, and the deafening finality of his departure from this world.
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