There was this
house near my very home today that used to withold the life of someone I truly
cared about. I wouldn’t exactly say I love this person, really because the
truth is that I don’t actually know how I really feel for this person until I
truly lost him – that he had actually
been my significant other. I used to be disoriented from the difference of what
loving and caring could’ve brought me except for the fact that love destroys
any kind friendship we used to have with someone. He was my significant other
because we were so good together all throughout highschool that everybody
thought we grew up together in this very neighborhood when we have just actually
met each other that first day of freshman.
But he died
anyway, you know. We just can’t help it.
It was
midnight when the screen to my phone lights up; when the caller ID shows his
brother’s name on screen. I wouldn’t expect a death, actually. He was on his
A-game when we last met; which was only a few days before it occured.
“Val” A
strangled voice acknowledged me from the other end of the line.
“Jer? What’s
up?” I asked, hoping for something good to hear in which I know I wouldn’t happen.
There was this desperation in his voice I’ve never heard before.
“Josh is in
the ER again. Seizure caused by this huge-just-recently-found tumor in his
brain stem. I think he might not make it this time. The Gleneagles, as usual.
Get in through the left-est door of the hospital. I’ll get you from there. 15
mins?”
“Sure,” I said,
almost choking myself.
As soon as I
got there, Josh, the literal significant other to my life were in lots of tubes
and injections as he stayed unconscious. He has been in the ER for at least
five hours and was undergoing the operation to remove the remains of the tumor
in his brainstem when I came. He was moved to the highly restrictive room after
the operation team did what they could to extend what life Josh deserved with
that agonizing terror when none of anything of his is actually extending except
for the suffering if it wasn’t for death a few hours later.
Jerome, his
brother and a few other family members rounded around Josh’s bed and were
heading outside to give me a little private session with Josh. Jerome stayed
voluntarily to help me, he said, helping to do what I don’t know. We’re all
tired of all the waiting and the worrying, I know. But we couldn’t do more than
to grief – unbelieving that they’re still in the running to hope for Josh’s
recovery.
I could never
go back to my old neighborhood if it wasn’t for Jerome that day we came back to
revisit. Not long after Josh’s death, it became too unbearable for his family
to keep staying at that household without constant rememberance of Josh’s
existance. That’s why they moved. I easily moved as well because I was to study
abroad just a few days after he passed – and the day I came back home to my
homeland happened to also be the day Jerome came to get me griefing; again.
Wait, no. It
was a week after I came back, actually. I have almost recovered from the scar
Josh’s death had caused me until I realized that it won’t wholefully heal
unless I went for a little trip to his old house and mourn thoroughly – a trip
in which I found out Jerome came for as well that evening.
The room that
once was always well lit on the second floor is now mostly dead – was it ever
even been lit again after all those years. Even the whole house would’ve been
an intended ruin if it wasn’t for the other neighbor which faithfully turns on
the front lights regularly to illuminate the exterior a little bit.
“You
remembered what the doctor claimed after his death, though?” Jerome said with
his teary eyes after a lengthy hug we exchanged.
“Yeah. It
still hurts; like bad. As if Josh has done trying himself that he’d let it
pass”
“Screw that.”
Jerome said, obviously crying
“It’s been 4
years eversince and I still hadn’t get over his death, you know. I still feel
we could’ve done better” He continued
“No. Hey,
listen. Listen to me. Josh’s dead. There’s no more blame to put on – not you,
not me. We’ve helped all we can even though that kind of ‘help’ would never
feel as worthy as any pain his death’s been strangling us” I tried not to
comfort him as much as I know that those kinds of words wouldn’t comfort me
anyway. But what more can I do?
After what it
felt like forever, finally Jerome said it. His words that will forever affect
how I see my infinity:
“But you know
what I mean, right? That we would’ve never survived his lost, even if we wanted
to forget him so bad. We both know it because we were literally there before he
really died. I remembered you said you didn’t want him to go and so did I
prayed. But what did it gave us? Still a loss we couldn’t help – humanity has
lost one other of their most worthy fighters. We, one day, will also die and leave
a scar to the people surrounding us. I hoped I kind of do what he did, you
know, to die as meaningfully as he did. He is a forever a fighter to me even
though the world forgets it.”
Gosh, did I
cry that night along with Jerome as a quiet gush of wind sings its lullaby. But
I remembered, Josh. I remembered everything. You couldn’t have wanted me to
forget any of it, could you? –red
TO BE CONTINUED
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