Oh Death, The Sting Still Hurts.
It’s been what? Five years? Or more, who knows? These are not the kind of things to forget but I’m hungover from last night, because I was forced to remember.
It does feel like yesterday, when I lost you. It feels like a bad dream, the only difference is, I wake up and I don’t get missed calls from you anymore.
I remember when you told me you were diagnosed with cancer. You treated it like it was just a flu, something that would be gone in a couple of days. I was mad. Mad at you for being so hopeful. Mad at life for being so unfair. Mad at God, cause, what the hell?
I was there through it all. The nights I had to rush to the hospital. I was there during chemo. When a huge part of your hair fell out, I cried. I knew I was going to lose you, but you had so much life in your eyes. Me? I died long ago. Specifically, I died when you told me you were going to die.
I was too scared to hope. To pray. I didn’t believe in miracles, but I challenged the universe, or the one who claims to control the universe. I challenged her to let you live, if she is who the holy books says she is. And if she wins, maybe I’d pray more.
She didn’t listen. Or maybe she did. Maybe she’s not omnipotent after all. Maybe impotent is the word.
You know, I absolutely hate movies, but I specifically detest The Fault in our Stars. And that other movie with Jaden Smith and his cancerous girlfriend. It’s like they were giving me an ultimatum to spend more time with you, or make you happy till you’d die. I didn’t want to make you happy because you were dying. Your happiness wasn’t meant to be circumstantial. I wasn’t just randomly going to hook you up with a guy to have the greatest sex of your life. Only for you to die and I’d have to explain to him that he was just a bucket list.
I was there when you told me you loved me for the last time. You were starting to lose hope and a part of me was somewhat relieved. You didn’t deserve the pain that came with cancer, but you didn’t also deserve the pain of waiting for a miracle. A miracle that was never going to happen.
But I wasn’t there when you slept off, into permanent oblivion. The doctor called me, I heard, but I didn’t listen. I was there, on that bridge between life and death, trying to pull you away from the grasp of the angel of death. Her hands were so strong, she didn’t let you go. I begged her to take me with you. I explained it to her that we were two peas in a pod. Ying and yang. Bread and tea. Garri and sugar. I begged her to take me with you, she didn’t listen.
It’s been five years now, and I’m patiently waiting for her to return, so that I can be with you. In God’s bosom or eternal damnation, I really don’t mind. As long as I’m with you.
I do know I’m speeding things up. Alcohol never tasted any better since you left. I used to feel a bitter aftertaste after every sip. Now, I can’t exactly tell the difference between bitter and sweet.
“You have to snap out of it”.
“She’s in a better place”.
“She wouldn’t want you wasting your life this way”.
I used to be that kind of consoler. I never really understood the pain of losing someone.
Now that I do, there’s absolutely nothing that can erase that pain. We just accept it and choose how to live with it.
“Oh death, where is thy sting?”
It’s in my failing heart and I won’t lie, this sting dey pain.