Silence | Book 2

3-6: Respect [M-T]

22nd of December, 2016

A thin layer of snow had fallen over the course of the night, through which he now quietly walked in the early morning. He held a bowl in his hands, that contained a large, unopened bag of chocolate candies. Knowing that this was probably the last day where he wouldn't be bothered, he made his way further into the frozen garden.

Hidden beneath several tall trees stood a small shrine made out of wood and natural stone. It was surrounded by a low wall, which gave way to a large gate. Several wooden charms rattled softly in the chill breeze.

Silently he stood before it, letting the cold and the moment sink in. His cheeks burned from the frigid breeze, but it was nothing like the ache in his heart. He swallowed deeply, and went through the gate into the shrine.

The heavy, carved wooden doors took a bit of effort to push open. The planks beneath his feet creaked softly as he made his way into the dark room. With each breath he took in the heavy scent of incense. The only light came from behind thin, rice paper sliding doors. The warm, golden flicker gave a certain calmth to it all, but at the same time demanded his respect.

For a moment he recollected himself, then quietly walked up to the door in front of him and slid it open. He closed it all but fully again behind him, so if someone entered they would know he was there. Well aware what he would see, he steeled himself and turned around.

In front of him stood a small, well made wooden table. Placed atop it was an arrangement of candles that at most had an hour or two left, several flowers floating in water, and nearly burnt incense. Colourful, happy childhood pictures filled the space between – because there had been none where they hadn't been happy. In the very centre stood a stone of dark granite, his brother's name carved on it in white characters. A small urn was placed in front of it.

Quietly he sat on his knees in front of his brother. Tears rolled down his cheeks, but he didn't even try to wipe them away. He wanted Hayate to know how much he missed him. With trembling hands he opened the bag of candy, and emptied it into the bowl. The colours were a stark contrast to the memorial, and he remembered the many times where they had shared the candy while watching movies or playing games. The thought that he'd never share it with him again caused him to sob unwillingly.

His hands shook as he put the bowl forward, and bowed down as deep as he could in front of it. It was an unorthodox offer, but he didn't make it for the living that would have their judgements – he knew Hayate liked it.

Forgive me. For leaving you alone. You will have to be without me, even though I promised... because I can't leave mom and dad; because I found someone who needs me. Someone I love,- nearly as much as you, but not at all like you. Forgive me – for growing up while you can't.

Today I will spend with you. I know it will not make up for all the days I haven't, it doesn't make up for all the days I have missed you; it is all I can do without dying from grief. We are separate by the worst barrier of all, and if I watch it too long I don't know if I could resist crossing it. You know I tried and couldn't. But I can spend one day close to you.

I have to admit, a part of me is glad that my life seems to move further away from you. There is still happiness here for me, achievements and desires that fulfill me. I don't feel like the void you left can ever be replaced, and maybe I will always be empty in one way – but I have found there are other dimensions to my being that I can expand. Which makes it so much more bitter that I never got to see you become more, and that you don't get to see me.

As much as I hope that you are still there, and still hear this, I can't believe it. I know the only one to hear these thoughts, is me. Yet here I am, and here I stay – because you deserve my attention. I want to give you this day out of my life, since I have nothing else to share,- since you gave all of yours and I still have all of mine.