Your Last Words

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic

"Yes, I'd wait for you."
I don't know why I wasn't disappointed you couldn't wait for me, when I should.
Should I?
I kept saying I wasn't disappointed. Was I not? Or was it just because I couldn't feel that disappointment.
Even now I can’t feel it.

"There's nothing more I want to achieve."

We were on the dining table, contemplating the chance of liver-transplant with offspring as the eligible donor, that went with saying I was one of the donors. You told me you didn't prefer that option because you’d seen enough, you’d done enough. You were confident you would have lived for five more years. Instead of five years, it was five months.

==

"You're the only one who can do it. I want you to end this."

I got speechless and so does my sister-in-law who was holding the phone as we were video calling two months ago. Right then and there I knew too well why you did what you did, why you said what you said. You were giving up. How I wanted to tell you that you didn't have to worry about us. We'll be just fine. I'll be just fine. Well, I lied, because just yesterday I cried over you again, in a place I made sure no one would see, no one would notice.

I put myself together and told you that I couldn’t apply for any more on leave, which I lied to you because I still wanted you to keep going. I still wanted to see you keep going, regardless the result. I knew I was being selfish, but my cowardice of telling how you had really felt then and there was way too burdensome than just telling what people had wanted to hear.

You didn't answer. You looked away as a sign you finished our conversation, and for the next couple of weeks, there was nothing and no one who could set the light in your eyes. How I wanted to scream at you that I truly understood your point in wanting to end all of this. But again, I couldn't bring myself to.

I had been sure I had let you go when you'd said you wanted to end what you wanted to end, but in the end when I blanketed you with a white sheet before they closed the coffin, that was when I knew I truly let you go and it hurt so much, so much that I prefer fake-smiling at others rather than crying with them because it was so much easier.

==

"I don't want it. I want to rest."

That day, when everyone seemed to be pushing you to open your mouth to have a sip of milk, to open your mouth for endless pills of medicine over a video-call, I just stared at you. How I wanted to scream on behalf of you that you'd had it all fed up. But I was a coward, wasn't I? I didn't say anything. Only after you left the call, I told them you were tired. I told them you wanted to end it all, you wanted to die. But I think no one had seemed to be ready to hear what I said.

==

"Yes, I'd wait for you."

It was the last words I heard from you over video-call when I told you I was coming, and I had already had my ticket flight for tomorrow. Three hours after that call I watched you inhaled three times before Mom said you had seemed to have stopped breathing. The phone was still on and I watched Mom wore you suit and tie that we already prepared for you months ago.

I was looking at my negative swab-antigen test, a test needed in order to be eligible for flight travelling the next day when the tears suddenly rolled over my cheek, the first tears after learning of your absence in this world. The second was in the quiet airport waiting room where almost no people around. The third was in the night-ride travel bus, on the way to your home. It was dark in the car, so no one saw me crying, I least I thought so.

I was one hour late when I finally arrived at your childhood home that you had renovated beautifully. I smiled when I touched your cold cheeks. You look neat with your suit and tie. Your smiling photo was there. I didn't know why I kept inserting my hand below your socks to touch your ankle, probably in my unconscious mind, I was trying to find some warmth there, the warmth I had when I hold your hand in prayers before I went back to where I live to continue my life and duty as a mother of two.

Right then and there I didn't know why I didn't get disappointed knowing you couldn't have waited for me, when I should have been.

Until now I don't know why I wasn't disappointed you couldn't wait for me, when I should.

Should I?

I kept saying I wasn't disappointed. Was I not? Or was it just because I couldn't feel that disappointment.

Even now I can’t feel it.

==


Submitted: December 12, 2021

© Copyright 2022 kajoel. All rights reserved.

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