Aftermath

This too, shall pass.

Aftermath

 

To be honest, memory lane isn’t exactly a road I’d like to go down.

I was not new to the world of affection nor was I new to the world of pain, but as a wise man once said, “Love only soothes away the pain so that a new one can take its place.”

It was a quiet day in college, not something that’d happen sporadically. I was with her, sitting alongside on the bench listening to her daily gossip and observing her hair as the wind blew progressively. Her blue eyes, moving like pearls as she expressed her joy over something I recall that included the word, “Cappuccino.” I was too moved by her expressions and beauty to notice what her splendor lips were offering to say, as for me, she was the most exquisite thing there was, yet I maintained such a posture as to indicate that I was listening to her assiduously.

 

Out of the blue, she mentioned that she grew somewhat fond of my poetry. Apparently, she had been checking out some of my notes I posted on my facebook profile and she asked me who I wrote them for? A question that enclosed everything I concealed inside me from the moment I entered the oratory committee and laid my eyes on her. “Random I guess. I don’t actually have someone to write about y’know.” I replied casually. “Well, you can take a request from a friend now, can’t ya?” She said humorously.

Hearing that, I took out a folded piece of paper from my jacket’s pocket and handed it over to her. “I wrote it yesterday. Maybe you’d like it” I said. My heartbeat amplified as she unfolded the paper to read the contents within. What if she found out that everything I wrote, everything, was for her? She turned a bit and read the poem as loud as only we both could hear it and the rest of our group which was too busy solving silly riddles amongst themselves were blocked away from it. It read simply:

 

Red and blue are the human veins,

Look outside, there, there’s rain,

Heart cries in pain,

High in the sky, I see her beauty, vain.

 

Cry less, die more, nothing gains,

Fainting light, the love I obtain,

Along, with the tears of charlatans and saints,

I die every day, but my soul remains.

 

“Beautiful.” She uttered in a low voice. “Can I keep it?”
“It’s yours…” I answered and turned to the rest of my group. I never wanted her to know what I felt inside. Maybe because I didn’t want to lose her as a friend, then again, I wanted her to know everything I kept from her, maybe because…I didn’t want to lose her. I was afraid to tell her how I truly felt because; what if the answer I want isn’t the answer I receive? I dreaded denial. Knowing the feeling, I didn’t want to endure it again, but I wanted to know everything yet. They say it’s better to have tried than not to at all, but sometimes, that just isn’t enough. Sometimes, all trying does is get you hurt. One part of me told me to let it all out and who knows, it might be for the better, but then again, the other part of me told me to keep my feelings cloaked. It told me that trying is valueless as I’m reminded of the past that comprised of nothing but suffering and agony.

 

It was time for her class to start, as was mine, and we planned on meeting after the class concluded. Amazing how the time spent with her made my whole world complete and made life seem as if it needed nothing more but the touch of her acceptance. Amazing, how she changed everything. But my past still haunted me. When everything felt perfect, everything changed. But I ignored my instincts and thought of the future as an optimist, after a long, long time.

 

The class time seemed like forever and I was dying for the clock to turn to 1 PM. Finally, it did. Took it’s time. During the class time, I thought about this, and finally, decided to let it all out. I was going to tell her that I loved her and that I always did since we met and will always do. I was going to tell her everything. I was too sure that the answer I get would be what I want, what I expect, what I desire. I threw all statistics away. I was overwhelmed by this one little thing, which might not actually be diminutive at all. Hope. A word that, with only its humble meaning, can change everything.

 

I called her and she told me that she was outside, waiting. I grabbed my bag and my jacket, and kind of dashed outside. I could actually feel my heart pumping blood throughout my body, and the adrenaline..

In the way, I grabbed a white rose. She loved white roses. As I got to the main gate, I saw her standing on the other side of the road. She told me to stay there and wait for her. For some reason, I didn’t want to stay. I just wanted to run to her and kiss her. I turned around to gather my thoughts and think what to say to her and how to say it. I had already started to think of a future, with her. So, beautiful…so…selfish…so…imaginary.

Suddenly, I heard car tires braking and then sharply I turned around and saw a car rushing away. I looked back at the place where she was. She wasn’t there. I saw her, lying in the middle of the street. She was covered in blood. My heartbeat stopped for a second.  I ran to her. I took her subtle head and put it on my lap. I called out her name, but there was no reply. I screamed for an ambulance as I constantly yelled out her name. I cursed that moment. The ambulance arrived and we got to the hospital. They took her to the treatment room where I was not allowed to go. I resisted and I fought but they forcefully kept me outside and locked the door. I stood outside the treatment room, waiting, and cursing myself. I wish it was me, not her. I prayed to God to take my life but keep her alive. I cried as I prayed.

After a few hours, the doctor came out, with his head down, with a face of empathy. I looked at him. He put his hand on my shoulder and said, “I’m sorry son. She didn’t make it...” My inside died when I heard those words. He gave me a piece of paper that came out of her coat’s pocket. I unfolded the paper. It was a poem and on the top it was written, “One for you too…”   I cried as I read it. I went inside the room where that petite, delicate angel was lying. She was still the most exquisite thing. I adjusted her hair off her creamy white cheeks and put my head on her chest, took her hand and said, “I’m sorry. I’m so, very sorry.”

I stayed there all day, with her.
They say that destiny has two ways of crushing us - by refusing our wishes and by fulfilling them. I just got crushed both ways.

The day she was buried, I went to her grave around midnight and took out the same white rose I had gotten for her. I put it on her grave and stood there just observing it. I was freezing as it was snowing heavily, but I remained there, talking to her until it was 5 in the morning. Just reminiscing about everything we did together. I never truly told her how special she was. I did so then, again and again. I wanted time to stop, and it did. It didn’t move on since, and neither did I. Never, was it the same again. Never.

 

 

One for you too…:

There's so much more to life than all of the hours

Moments that just slip beneath our feet

In the times that we put it all on the table

And help feels too far beyond our reach

 

If we can make it through this storm

And become who we were before

Promise me we'll never look back

The worst is far behind us now

We'll make it out of here somehow

Meet me in the aftermath

Oh, meet me in the aftermath…

        (Lifehouse)