It's been almost a year

I look at the calendar. This is the month I dreaded the most; the beginning of the end.  An end we had no power over, an end not in our hands to prevent. Little did we know that time was counting backwards for the two of us. I look at the calendar and everything comes back to me. I thought I’d be used to your absence by now, but how could I be when everything still reminds me of you?

It’s been almost a year since I received that phone call. I dropped everything and caught the first flight to you. You weren’t doing well. You were collapsing and all I could do was be there for you. There was nothing and no one that could interfere with fate’s commands.

I was told the news before I walked into the room. I still don’t know how I managed to hold back the sobs and the tears and tease you about your new pyjamas. You made it so easy; you were full of smiles and laughter, completely unaware of what was coming for you.

I couldn’t help but wonder if it was that the doctors were wrong or your test results got mixed up with someone else’s. You seemed perfectly healthy and normal. How could you be so sick on the inside when you seemed so well on the outside?

How could they tell me that the slightest move could be fatal? I tried to hold on to you as hard and tight as I could. I tried to spend as much time as I could with you; watching you sleep, eat, talk – oh, I would tell you just about anything to get you to talk to me back, to create memories of your voice in my head.

I used to call on your cell just to hear your voice on your voice mail, now I just write letters I will never send. But somehow I imagine you opening them and reading them. All the small things I got myself to do in a day, the ridiculously small progress I’ve made in moving on without you.

The memories are still fresh. I can’t stand my clothes, my perfume, my shoes…  They all remind me of moments the two of us had, your hilarious comment about that dress you made me buy and then decided you didn’t actually like.

I tried to move on you know, I really did. It’s what you asked me in one of our last talks. “Don’t be stupid”, you said, “you have to live”. I tried, I did. There’s so much rejection and suspicion in the world.

You say one thing and people take it you mean the other. You try to be true and real and people only see pretend and lies. You knew me. It took us quite some time but you knew me. Now, no one really cares to get to know you. They step on past experiences and they are set out to hurt you and let you cry your heart out and bleed.

It’s been almost a year since I last saw your face. It’s been almost a year, since airports, airplanes and a packed suitcase became my best friends. It’s been almost a year since hospital chairs served as my bed. It’s been almost a year since I last breathed easily. I have to remind myself to do so now. It’s been almost a year since I have properly slept.

It’s been almost a year since I last saw you breathing; no more. An absolute, dark scenery with occasional colourful passers-by.

A year since they announced to me I had to prepare myself for the worst; a year since they ripped my heart off my chest.

I still smile, I still laugh but if you can read my mind from wherever you are, you know how hopelessly fake that is. You know how hard I try to get out of bed in the morning and how hard I struggle to take care of everything.

You told me to move on. I tried. There was someone who got me to really, truly smile for a while but then there was darkness all over again.

People always leave, for whatever reason. They leave and they let you wonder “what if”. What if you were never gone? What if my heart could be in one piece again and everything felt right?

The thing about these “what-ifs?” is that now we’ll never know.