Take my Hand | MIKHAIAH

CHAPTER 44 - Hospital Scenes

It was quite a warm morning at the cemetery. Under this lovely sunlight, stood up a group of people sniffling and hugging one another as they let go of their loved one. It had always been a sad scene. Losing someone and never being able to see them again is heartbreaking. But that was life; it's bound to happen that way.

Death might separate the living and the corpse but somehow, they'd still live in your heart. They'd still be there–forever.

Two ladies walked hand in hand with confident steps toward the certain tomb. One of them–the taller one held a bouquet of white roses–her kuya's favorite flower. Her other hand tightened her grip on the latter's hand protectively. Somewhat scared that the angel of death might take her away from her. It didn't make any sense but she just had to do it.

She felt Aiah's thumb stroking the back of her hand, calming her. She gave her a quick smile as she kept on walking. Mikha had promised him to bring Aiah with her should she accept her heart forever. So here she is, standing before kuya Mike's gravestone with Aiah.

"Kuya, hey," she put the flowers on top of the grass. "I–oh... I—" she glanced at the black dressed people.

She had seen death since forever, she had lost her patients a lot than she could even handle, she's somehow immune to the heart wrenching scene when she had to announce 'we did everything we could, she/he had give everything they've got', usually the family understood by that sentence that their loved one didn't make it–that they were gone.

She gulped hard. She didn't know what had come over her to be so overly sensitive today.

"Bubby, are you okay?" Aiah's voice came out in a gentle tone, concerned.

"Yeah." she shook her head to clear up her mind. She squeezed her companion's hand lightly, assuring her.

"Kuya, as promised, I brought Aiah with me. What do you think of her?" A soft wind blew.

"I know you'd think she's pretty," she chuckled a bit. "Wait," Mikha gestured to Aiah to sit at the cold cement. "It's not that I'm crazy or something, it's just that–this is how I communicate with him. You know, I talk, he's dead but I know he's listening. I mean, I don't know how, it doesn't make any sense but he must be listening–I mean, he's—" she rambled.

"Bubby," Aiah stopped her. "I get it," she soothed her. "May I talk with him too?"

"Yeah, sure." Mikha nodded.

"Hey kuya," she could feel the wind fondling her face, she smiled. "How are you? We are all good here, I hope you are well too. Mikha told me a lot about you, some good, some bad," she giggled. "One thing is for sure, though. Mikha adores you very much. You know her longer than I do, you certainly know how rare that is, right?"

They spent more than half an hour talking and laughing with the wind. Mikha proudly told him that they were engaged and the talk about marriage date was on its way. They bid their goodbye as Aiah bowed a bit before joining Mikha.

Mikha started her car when she felt Aiah's hand on her thigh. She turned to her with a confused look upon her face.

"I wish I got to know him."

Her memory flew back to a few years ago at this very place when she was the one who was standing, struggling so hard holding back her tears as the coffin was downgraded to the dugouts with a broken arm and crushed heart.

Kuya Mike was the brother she never had. They weren't blood related, they weren't childhood friends or anything, but he was her protector, her enemy, her ally, her rival, her best friend. Losing him caused her to drown in the weakest point that ever happened in her life. He was a great company. Unfortunately, he was gone too soon.