seven stages

Shock

dear frank
your breathing stopped at 2:56am on Tuesday the 19th of January.

and i wasn't there.

i was in Taylor's house, hunched over a Physics textbook, my phone turned off, at the bottom of my bag.

i had called you before i left, and you sounded great, explaining that the new medication you were on seemed to be working, and there was a big possibility you might be well enough to go to the movie night at Tom's house next week.

after your reassurance that you were fine, that i should concentrate on studying, i gave in, telling you i would call you in the morning.

💀

i got the news at 10:27am the next morning.

11 missed calls from
frank's mom ❄️

three missed calls from
frank's dad 🔨

four texts from
frankie🍃

8:29pm
-hey, i know i said to turn your phone off, but if you get this, come over.

9:42pm

baby, i think it's time.

11:16pm

i love you, until your breathing stops, forever.

1:31am

uh. hi, it's frank's brother. you need to get over here.

i calmly threw my phone across the room.

Taylor found me fifteen minutes later, sitting on her kitchen floor, with a neutral face and a feeling of numbness spreading through my whole body.

"he said he was getting better."
my voice broke the silence, only cracking once.

"who did?"

"frank. he said he was getting better."

"what's up? he seemed a lot better last time i saw him."

"he's gone."

pure, peaceful silence.
no sound except my calm breathing.

"what?!"

"frank. he's gone. he died."

"oh my God, Sky. i'm so sorry, oh my God."

"i wasn't even there. i promised i would be but i wasn't there."

and then i broke, a shaking mess of tears and broken heartedness on the floor.

"he's gone. frank is dead."