I tried to kill myself the day I buried my mother.
She was the only person I had left and I loved her dearly, but the universe must have had a personal vendetta against me because they took her away from me far too soon.
It was her 55th birthday and instead of going home straight from work like I always do, I dropped by at the local bakeshop to get her a cake. There were a lot of people and the line was really long but I patiently waited. All her life, my mother has tirelessly worked to protect me and to give me everything I needed. She sacrificed so much and finally, I had the chance to get her something in return. I wasn't gonna pass up on an opportunity to make her feel special just because of a long line. I was happy to wait. I entertained myself by imagining how she would react when she sees my gift to her. I pictured how her wrinkled eyes would light up the room brighter than Christmas lights in December could; how her infectious laughter would fill our humble home.
But what actually happened was way off from what I had imagined.
I found her lying on the ground, unable to speak or move. Time slowed down and I felt like the earth beneath me shattered, sucking me to its core. My knees grew weak. Air got sucked out of my lungs. I dropped the cake to the floor and I rushed to her side, the word 'Nay!' escaping from my lips in pure horror.
I begged for her to fight. I begged for her to stay with me. I screamed and I cried but I was too late. She was already gone.
I found out later on that she had a heart attack and I couldn't help but think that maybe, if I got home even just a few minutes earlier, I could have saved her. Maybe she would have lived.
That was all that consumed me as I watched them lower her casket to the ground, to be forever buried, to be forever forgotten. I thought about all the things I should have told her, all the things we should have done together, the places we should have gone to. I thought about the life we could have had if only she hadn't died and it crushed my soul to dust.
But I didn't bid her goodbye. Instead I whispered, "Hintayin mo ko 'Nay. Susunod din ako sayo."
I went straight to the cliff after the funeral. I gave it a long, cold stare as I braced myself for the fall, imagining how it would feel like to finally stop breathing, or how it would be like to finally stop feeling.
I found myself laughing, ridiculing myself for being such a filthy hypocrite. Not too long ago it was Elijah who stood in this very same spot trying to cheat life while I convinced him that things will be okay.
Now, it was I who wanted to die.
I yelled, cursing him, hoping that the wind would take it to wherever he was.
Fuck you, Elijah for not doing a better job in telling me how excruciating the pain was. Fuck you, Elijah for not describing how maddening it is to helplessly watch while your sanity slowly gets peeled off of you. If you did, maybe I would have let you jump and we wouldn't have fallen in love. You wouldn't have left me. I wouldn't have waited, I would have been okay in leaving this town, Nay and I would have lived with her sister, someone would have been with her, she wouldn't have died.
But I chose you.
I held on to your words.
I waited for you.
Now, I no longer could.
I closed my eyes and pictured Nay's kind and beautiful face in my mind. I prayed for the angels to take me to her. All I wanted was to be with her again.
I took one last breath, outstretched my arms, and allowed myself to fall.
