My Soulmate Died

Forgive and Forget

I opened my eyes to the ceiling fan hanging above the center of my room. My gaze lingered on its blades' constant motion, but my mind had already wandered elsewhere. It was a Monday today, the day of the week I used to find awfully uneasy. Mondays then meant the start of a long, boring week, but now Mondays are my favorite. Mondays now meant I could see my secret friend again. I could laugh a little more with Gorou, and I could wave another hello and say another goodbye.

Kicking myself out of the self-indulgent daydreams I planned to happen today, I looked over at the bedside table to my right. There on its surface was a single table lamp and a modestly sized, neatly folded piece of paper, the one with a red rose stamp of wax. For once, I didn't feel that sickening feeling lurking its way around my heart. I'm ready. I'm ready to face whatever heavy words or secrets mother left for me in her letter before her passing. 

I slid my legs off the side of my bed and pulled myself up, reaching for the paper I had isolated by itself. My heart raced at the thought of opening the letter, and I could feel the cold sweat building up all over my body. My hand unconsciously retracted itself, fear began overtaking me, fear of the future. Just when I thought I had gotten over the guilt, it had come back to creep up on me. I continued staring at the paper as I held my hand from going any further back. I shouldn't stop now, I can't, not after all these years of progress and patience waiting for the perfect opportunity to present itself. I told myself I'm ready, and I am ready. 

I took ahold of the folded, square letter and held its delicate body in both of my hands. The streak of sunlight peeking from the crack of the blinds was the only thing illuminating my room, removing parts of the shadows encasing the note as I began slowly unfolding its sides.

4 years I've waited for this moment. For 4 years I endured the unnerving feeling that would haunt me each time I peeked into the pocket of my uniform.

I never told anyone about the letter, with the exception of my father. The first time I mentioned it, father's face twisted in concern, but he didn't say a word to me.  Father's eyes spoke for him. Riddled with sorrow, in there I saw a fading light, an emptiness. There was no need for words, his eyes told more than he could ever verbally express. I knew then to never bring up the subject again. I knew then it was my truth to find, and neither my father nor anyone else was allowed to interfere. 

I especially didn't want to bother him about other trivial things because I don't think I'd ever come to know half the hurt he went through when the love of his life died. I saw it in him, the sparks that would light up when he and mother were together, even for the shortest of times, no matter where they were. They were so deeply in love, the two of them, but the universe had to tear it apart, just as it always did with anything and everything, anytime. Now, the sparks in Father's eyes never lit up again. They were gone, drifting off into the night sea, away from the shores of his deep sapphire eyes. At times I'd catch him staring off into the distance and I made sure to ask him if he was feeling well, to which he would always answer with an 'I'm fine', but I never believed him, not with a face that looked utterly broken into pieces.

From the last day I asked him, we rarely spoke in each other's company. Seeing his withdrawal from the people around him and his own son, I could only feel an eternal sadness engulfing my heart in all of its darkness. We're not on bad terms; we love each other dearly, but because of complicated situations we never express our love to each other anymore, not since mother's passing. It's only gotten worse since dad fell victim to an incurable illness, tearing our relationship even further apart. He would always deny the medicine the doctors prescribed to him, dismissing each one until they all gave up. Now all I can do is hold his hand, pray for a safe leaving for him, and pretend everything is fine with my family.