Losing your memory

You notice even the most remarkable of things when you’re a writer. Like how the sky before dawn is a bittersweet coral pigment smeared onto a barren canvas, merged with the inky cobalt glow that would darken as the hours passed, or the way that the breeze caressed the budding leaves on the trees like a mother her newborn child. Or maybe that’s just me. Maybe I think too much. Right now, though, there’s only one thing that enters my mind, and it seems there to stay, embedded into my memory and unwilling to leave. I’m light on my feet as I tread through the stark white doors that open with my presence, but with me I carry a heavy heart. I’ve lost count of the times that I’ve walked these floors, and still I hope that the next day will bring a new sight. But it never does, and nor will it. I don’t bother with knocking the door once I reach it; she’ll be awake, and it’s not like she’s expecting anyone anytime soon. The hinges creak as I push the door open, as if they haven’t been used in years. They have, of course- seeing as I’m the one always opening this door day after day. Her head is turned to face me, pale skin pulled taut over her cheeks and mauve shadows under copper-coloured eyes that still manage to sparkle whenever I see her. She doesn’t acknowledge me; at least, not verbally, and I feel a wave of anguish wash over me when I realize that I can’t even remember the last time I heard her speak. People will ask me if it hurts me- that she’s like this- And it does. Oh god, it does. Most of the time it’s as if she isn’t even there, and it pains me just as much as I know that it pains her. But then, she’ll reach out for my hand, and she’ll hold it with the strength that I felt so drawn to the day that we first met, and I’ll let myself think- just for a minute, that we’ll be okay. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m leaning beside her on the horribly uncomfortable hospital mattress, and my heart twists at the sound of her strenuous breaths, the sight of her chest heaving at the incapacity to take in as much air as she needs. And that’s when I know. I think I’ve known for a while, actually, but now I really know.

She’s not going to be with me for much longer.

 I yank the diaphanous tube out of her forearm and let it hang beside her IV, hooking my arms underneath her so that her head falls against my chest. I hope to God that I don’t get caught. I weave down the corridors as quickly as possible with a teenage girl in my arms, and before long I’m out again, in front of those sickening doors that I will never walk through again. Gently, I lay her down in the backseat of my car, resting her head down on a cream-colored pillow before practically throwing myself into the driver’s seat, ramming the key into the ignition and starting the engine. My fingertips tap against the wheel as I drive, and quite honestly, I don’t know where my attention is right now. All I can think of is her. A few minutes (and discarded red lights) later, I’ve reached my destination. I look down over the park, the trees, and the lake. It’s been a while since I’ve set foot in this place, and I haven’t been near it since she fell sick. I swing her arm over my shoulder and wrap mine around her waist so that she doesn’t fall, even though I very well know that she’s far too weak to walk.  My steps are evenly spaced; slow enough to let her see everything just one last time, but quick enough to make sure that she reaches the lake with me. We sit cross-legged only a few inches from the water, and she’s leaned against my shoulder so heavily that at times I begin to wonder if she’s still here. I grasp her hand in mine, and even though it’s so soft that I can hardly feel it, she squeezes my fingers in return. I let my eyes slip closed for a moment, reliving the golden memories and the taste of our first kiss on my lips. This was our place; this was where we were happy. This was where I met her, on that one day of summer so many years ago. She had pulled me into the water by the hand when I had been too scared to go in, staying in the shallow water as our parents watched on. Later in life we’d come back as teenagers, sneaking drinks into this clearing with our friends and venturing ever deeper into the waters. But now I know that we’re in too deep, and now I have to watch her drown while I breathe.

And somehow I can’t help but think that it’s my fault.

“Thank you.” I hear her murmur, and for a while I think that I’m daydreaming. But then I realize that I’m not. That she’s here right next to me, and that she’s very real. Why is she thanking me? I wasn’t able to save her. Not this time. “For everything.” It’s so faint that I could’ve imagined it, but I can feel the tears pricking at my eyes and I know that I didn’t. I wipe at my eyes with the back of my hand, and with the other I stroke the back of her hand with my thumb. I can’t cry now. I have to be strong. For her.

“I love you.” I manage to keep my voice straight underneath my grief, and I can feel her melting into me as if we were one.

“You too.” It’s quite intelligible,  but it’s been so long since I last heard her speak so I forgive her for that. I can’t stop myself from crying this time, and the tears roll down my cheeks to my chin. All of this agony, all of this pain, I can let it go now. And let it go I do. How am I supposed to live without her? For the last few years she’s been all that I have, and I’ve been all that she has. I was there with her when she first got sick, when she had her first surgery, when her hair started to fall. And I loved her throughout it. And I still do. There are many people that I would die for, but she is the only one that I would live for. With shaking hands, I reach for my iPod, and start to play her favourite song; Losing your memory by Ryan Starr. Because I know that by the time the song is over, she won’t be with me anymore.

call all your friends,

and tell them i’m never coming back

cause this is the end

pretend that you want it,

don’t react

I sing for her; something that I’ve never done before even though I know that she always wanted me to.  I refuse to say goodbye, and I don’t really think I’ll ever come to terms with the fact that she won’t be with me anymore. The only thing that manages to reassure me is  knowing that she’ll wait for me up there; if there is a heaven, that is. Because if there is, I know for sure that she’ll be going there. She was a kind-hearted soul, considerate and faithful, a warm girl that was taken away too young. I wonder if she’ll finally get to meet her parents, if they’ll tell her that they’re proud of her. I know that I’m proud of her, and even though there’s so much that I want to say to her, I keep quiet.

She asked me once if I’d always stay with her, and I remember saying that I would. Until the very end. And I did. I feel her hand go slack in mine, and her fingers slip away to fall onto the grass. Her chest lays as motionless as a stone figurine, and no laboured breaths escape her anymore. She’s gone, and I don’t know whether I should be happy or sad about that even though it makes absolutely no sense. But now I can believe that she’s happy, that she isn’t suffering anymore. She never deserved to suffer, and I hope more than anything that she knew that.

And if she doesn’t, I’ll tell her one day.

Soon.

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Okay so this sounded far better in my mind, but here it is. I was actually thinking about this story while taking a walk earlier this afternoon in a beautiful place near me which is known as Glynllifon Park. I hope you liked it anyway even though it's a bit depressing(sorry). The song lyrics don't belong to me but the writing does.