Get Well Soon

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
I had drawn a picture for this, which is what created the inspiration. And, i hope you do catch that it is from the point of view as the balloon. Friend told me to do it from the view of the balloon so I tried my best to.

Please enjoy :)


PLEASE EXCUSE ANY ERRORS THAT YOU SEE. TOO LAZY TO EDIT. WROTE A BIT AGO SO MAYBE NOT WORTH EDITING... MAYBE IN THE FUTURE..... maybe...


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To my
Kiddos

Submitted: November 03, 2014

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Submitted: November 03, 2014

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Get Well Soon
Originally finished writing September 9th, 2013 at 9:33pm
Typed by finished 9/9/13 at 10:56pm
Retyped 9/10/13 at 9:54pm
By: KiddosBigWorld


We were on our way to the hospital for the fifth time this month.  She seemed so filled with glee and happiness that I could feel this grateful vibe explode throughout the car, affecting her parents as well. 

I floated above her, observing her bright smile shining in and even out of the car and watching the sheer bliss wisp across her face as she plays every image of each visit in her head.  I could tell that, even with the news of what I was to become of me, she still showed strength and carried a tough, secure exterior to him with each uplifting visiting hour they spend together. 

On this visit, she decided that instead of a comic book that has probably been  read multiple times or cheap, typical you're-in-the-hospital type of flowers, she was determined on purchasing a little gift, a gift that she, surprisingly, has yet to give: a 'Get Well Soon' balloon.  A bright, sky blue coating with a little black ribbon for its tail appeared to be a perfect, cheesy gift, if I do say so myself.

We were a long drive away before we would arrive at the hospital, where, from what I heard from her say as a joke, I was to be held in a prison cell, which I wouldn’t exactly have called it so much as being a prisoner, against my will, enclosed with a controlling disease that was incurable, yet even with a trapping death wish draping across my shoulders and with this knowledge permanently stamped onto her brain, she remained positive, content and even accepting with life just by the way she talked and by the way she didn't speak; her pure essence was enough to prove that there was love in every situation, from the living to the dying.

She opened her backseat passenger car door right as the car paused and powered down in its parking space.  With the energy and complete joyous emotion of a child in a candy store, this birthday girl of eighteen rushed towards the broken automatic doors to the prison of patients with me lugging behind.  Happily growling at the misfortune of having to manually enter the building, and being too excited to wait for her parents, she quickly demanded for a visitor's pass at the sign in desk.  The lady behind the desk, a blond, well educated, cheery assistant, provided my carrier with what she required and guided her to the fastest way possible to visit her sickly prince.

She quietly, yet excitingly, nodded and thanked the assistant and very impatiently waited for her parents to stroll into the building.  They were rewarded two passes and followed their daughter to the elevator to the second to last floor of the 7-story building.  I was able to see everything from up there: where we parked at the top of the tiny, old parking deck; where she almost lost me to the lack of keeping a tight grip on me in excitement and the traffic light where she deeply stated that even if anyone were to die in the next few days, she would never leave their side or forget about them.  This statement stood quite strongly in my mind and pierced even the tiniest of hearts to brighten and shine.  

After staring out the window, I realized that she began to pull me down the corridor filled with sickly patients, some looking healthier with every positive reaction to treatment and some... not so healthy.  I tried to stay at her side but slowly fell behind with her parents with every quick set of skip steps she made.

6-100A.  The room number I would never forget.  The sixth floor, 100th room and the 100th room on the right(6-100B was on the left).  The door was shut and there were no lights on from what I saw as she stood right in front of the closed opening to his prison cell.  I felt a cool breeze from the slight crack at the ceiling of the door.  I moved in protest of entering this oddly chilled room but my protest did not catch her attention as she took a very large breath in and exhaled right as the door was opened by a doctor who carried death on his coat and in his eyes.

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I laid in the corner of her room, motionless, forgotten and empty of what felt like life while she scattered about to find clean clothes she could wear out on this cool, early fall afternoon.  I remembered that today was her birthday again, the only date besides the following Wednesday, was of relevance to me.  She threw on these once perfectly stitched now ripped leggings and a still well fitted rose colored sleeved dress with a faded black flowery design which could easily show the age of the apparel, actually both items showed aging.  She also rewore yesterday's socks and hid them within black and white laced sneakers.  Grabbing her purse, she approached me with the saddest smile I have ever witnessed over these two years of solitude in this corner.  She picked me up onto what little matter was left that I could call ‘feet’ and carefully examined me up and down, for any injuries, then gently held me close to her, avoiding accidentally crushing me in this romantic yet depressing embrace.  She then covered my sight and allowed me to sit in darkness.

I was not able to see where we went but when she finally released me from my isolation of light, I was revealed to a sales guy, aiding her in retrieving a can of something that helped me return to normal and lively again.

"So who is this for?  Family member?"  the salesperson looked at me with curiosity and  invaded, causing her to actually pay attention to her conversation abilities.

"Boyfriend..." she quietly replied, avoiding eye contact from what I witnessed as to avoiding letting tears fall.

"I see.  Well I do hope he gets well soon.  I hate seeing young ladies like you walk in here with depression imprinted into your eyes and across your face."  he returned my newly refreshed body to her side.

She glanced up, wrapping a hand around my arm to keep me from wandering off, tears already falling but being on the ball, she brushed them away and clearly smiled as best as she could.  "How much would this cost?" she tried to remain cheery.

"Not a dime.  It's on the house as long as you do not return with tears in your eyes." 

She nodded and half walked-half stumbled to her car with me practically glued to her side, starting its engine between tears and quickly drove off to a location unknown to me.

I watched the city life pass by and saw the country side of town roll in as we sped down the road.  She had me seated next to her keep me from freely escaping, even though in her condition or even any condition, I would have never even thought about leaving her.  Her eyes were returning to normal after a good few minute cry-fest in the car at the store.  She looked so young and so old at the same time.  It had only been two years since she forgot about me in the isolated corner of her room to deflate into a sad spirit-like being and to keep solely to myself.   I guess I couldn't blame her for having to grow up by herself with no one to be at her side but me and even then, I was what seemed like so far and distant from her and not in any condition to help that I could always sense when she was alone.

We pulled up to a tiny park, completely isolated from the city; it felt more than isolated than my corner.  It was a park where she talked about in the car on this day those few years ago:
"I would LOVE to take him to this park I found, on our 3rd anniversary this Wednesday!  It's only, like, the most romantic place I can think of that will give us a memory before he passes, that will allow us to share one last full year together!"  I could recall her exact phrasing and exclamation on each word that was said.  By being forced into the corner the day of that statement, I could only guess that her imagination will only remain as a lost dream.

We both exited the car; she held onto me by my black sleeve that I had once despised in having for giving me the inability to feel the freedom of the wind.  I kept close to her once again as we strolled closer to this distant, giant tree.  I was unsure as to what type it was, but according to its size, it was quite old.  The leaves belonging to the tree had yet to change from an emerald green to a dirt brown, which seemed a bit odd from what I was able to view from my corner as leaves dropped outside her bedroom window around this time last year. 

Approaching this tree, she took a large, relieving breath in and marched in the direction of a lonely, rounded imprinted tombstone that stood peacefully under the tree.  She kneeled down before it, keeping her tears at bay as long as she could as she read the few lines of the permanent wording.  She looked as if she had read it multiple times by the way her eyes moved and how her voice spoke each phrase.

The stone read:

ERICK T. MYLES
August 10 1994 - October 18 2013
A son; a brother; a fighter; a caring boyfriend of three years.
"Even in these last few days of my time clock, I know for a fact that you will never forget about me, never leave me in my time of need, and you will move on from me.  You promised!
I love you, my rose."


At the bottom of the quote it looked like the true, real signature carved into the stone.  With every spoken word of grace and purity, I knew this quote hit deeper in her heart than simply being viewed on the stone.  I remembered seeing the exact quote on all the love letters she used to throw at me a few days after the funeral.  The hand writing became unsteady and sloppy over the course of each letter yet the way of scribbling of this name in cursive/free-style of signing each letter always remained the same, even on the tombstone. She held a tight grip on me as she stood up and looked down at the grave.

"We were going to come here Wednesday, Erick, not to your funeral.  You even told me you going to ask me to marry you, even if we both knew you were going to die..." She paused, trying to catch her words, "We were going to imagine our honeymoon, name our never-to-exist children and pretend to grow old together.  We were supposed to convince your doctor today, to allow you to escape your cell for one afternoon, because that was all we needed."

She began to cry; the tears of her crying were large and depressing.  I could hear her choking on words but without warming, she screamed:
"WE WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO PART UNTIL THEN!  You promised me, Erick...  You even pinky promised you'd fight on... For me... As a birthday present..."

With one motion of her fingers, she released me into the sky, granting me pure freedom.  I began to feel this lifting feeling of separation and departure when she let go of me.  I knew at last, that even after these last few years, she finally was able to keep her promise, and with my full release, I knew that she was able to move on without me.  Yet, as I escaped her company on last time, I could hear one final statement from her before I drifted into the clouds:

"I promised you a balloon, this simple get-well-soon balloon.  I kept it over the last two years but I couldn’t break a promise.  I couldn’t stay attached to something so much like the way I began to feel attached to you.  With this last visit, I’ll break the bond with this balloon, break the bond with you and finally move on.  I love you, Erick."

I finally was at peace.  I could leave this Earth knowing that she had moved on from me.  Though, as I continued to climb to the heavens all I see when I looked back was her mouthing six words in my direction as tears dripped from her eyes and ran down her cheeks:
“Why did you not get well?"


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