𝚂𝚎𝚎 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚂𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 #2: 𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍

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TAMMY:
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Just like the Doctor said, I was discharged the next day, on the 25th of December.

My parents had asked why I left the house the way I did. Suddenly. Unannounced. Without anyone's knowledge of it.

I simply told them the truth. That all the calls and messages they received from my relatives, concerning Ifeoluwa's death sickened me. They seemed to understand, which came to me as a shock, but that didn't mean I wasn't left without warning.

It was the morning of Christmas, exactly 10:50 AM. I could already hear music and the sounds of fireworks but I couldn't care less about any of it, or the Christmas day itself.

So, while everyone around me celebrated Christmas with their loved ones and a kind of bliss that arose the holiday spirit within them, I was still laying in my bed, staring at the ceiling, not feeling even the slightest need to get up.

On a normal Christmas holiday, I would've been just as happy as everyone else. Enthusiastic, excited and curious even, of the things that I knew would take place and the things that were yet to.

But there was nothing normal about this holiday. There was a new change I had to adapt to, and I hadn't established that yet. I just knew I couldn't celebrate the holiday without feeling a certain sort of way, like, something really important was missing.

Drawing to that conclusion, I kept myself in my room, laying on my bed and loosing myself in my own thoughts.

That is, until my door banged open and my Father stepped in.

"Tammy, you have to get downstairs. A lot of people are here right now to receive all of us." He paused, pondering on letting out his next words or just shutting up. "They want to know how you're faring."

I sighed, sitting up right on my bed. "Can you tell them I'm sick?"

My Father only gave me a look. I sighed. "Dad, I really don't feel like going down there and pretend like I'm okay just so some people at our house can have a good time on Christmas."

My father walked further into my room, switching on the lights. Then, he sat beside me on the bed.

"It's him, isn't it?" He asked. "You don't want to celebrate Christmas without him."

I fell silent.

"Tammy, you can't keep doing this to yourself. You're not making this easier for yourself, or for any of us."

I didn't say a thing. I remained silent and stared at my toes.

"Look." He breathed. "Don't think of him as someone you lost, Tammy, because your brother never truly left. Your brother still exists within us, the memory of him alone is gold." He paused. "Try not to focus on all the things you lost, and see the things you still have."

"When you do, you'll cherish that the most."

My father kissed me on my forehead and quietly left the room afterwards, leaving me to reflect on everything he'd just said.

I did that for a while, reflecting on everything, and my father's words. Sighing, I looked up to the ceiling, but only stared at it.

A part of me wanted to speak to it. I wanted to smile and wave, but I thought against that and quickly walked out of my room.

Downstairs, Christmas songs played, places were either decorated with colors of green, red, white or all. Neighbours and relatives moved around the place, taking food and trying to start up small conversations with my Mum. I guess that distracted her for a while because she didn't look as sober as she'd do often been recently.