I'm standing at her bed. She looks so frail and weak; desperate for a thread of hope she can cling on to. I struggle to say something, anything that will help. But I can't. Words fail me.
"Emma, will I make it?"
She looks at me with those longing eyes, her tone so heartbreaking it wrenches everything within me. The acrid taste of bile fills my mouth and my eyes water.
Like the coward I am, I refuse to meet her blue orbs. Instead, I face the floor, tears now rolling down.
"Of course you will Sarah. I, the doctors....."
"Em, I heard the doctors."
And that's it. There's nothing I can say. Because she already knows. She knows how bad it is. She knows the doctors have no hope. She knows it would take a miracle to save her now.
I take her hand in my own, gripping tightly. My hand, cold and sweaty, shakes violently.
And just then, I can't hold it anymore.
I mumble an incoherent excuse of needing the bathroom and make a run for the door. I race past the corridor of doom, and out into the courtyard where the sun still glows ever so bright. It's unfair really, how the entirety of my world has shifted on its axis; and yet it remains indifferent.
And there, I lose control. I cry and I scream because it's so unfair. Sarah, the most lovable person ever. She was kind, sweet and pure. All things the world needs more of. She's the only one who's been really there for me. My biggest supporter since day one.
It's weird. I've heard sisters always fight, but Sarah and I, we had something different. Separated by more than a 6-year difference, yet you could hardly tell. Age was just a number after all.
~~~~~~
6th January. Already? Sarah's operation.
I can't bear going down to the hospital. Something in me dies at the mere thought of it. She's out there battling with life and there's nothing I can do for her. What am I to say? Do I wish her good luck and ask she come back to me soon? Do I skip all the pleasantries and jump to the goodbye? Ah, emotions how thou wreck me.
But I have to do this. I have to see her.
The drive to the hospital is a blur. I'm on my eleventh cup of coffee by now. Or is it the fifteenth? Does it even matter?
Sleep is a foreign concept to me. The idea of closing my eyes and surrendering to blissful slumber is laughable at this point. There is no escape.
She's paler than I've ever seen her. The stark white of her hospital gown makes her translucent skin stand out all the more. Her face usually vibrant and full of life is gaunt-like and hollow with the absence of any colour whatsoever. The eyes, oh the eyes. They're an endless pit, threatening to devour me whole. Their usual warmth amiss; desolate and broken. This isn't the Sarah I know.
I hold her hand one last time and then she's gone.
~~~~~~
It's been months since Sarah passed away. I'd say I got over it, but that would be a downright lie.
People say you get over your fears once you face them. True. I may never get over Sarah's death but; I'm not afraid anymore.
The fear of losing something or someone you care about is irrational. Because you have no guarantee of anything. You can have everything one day and absolutely nothing the next. It can go from rainbows and sunshine to menacing skies and raging storms. And it will happen so suddenly you won't even have time to readjust the way you thought of things. It will be like walking down the stairs in the dark and thinking there's one more step than there really is. There will be a sickening moment of harsh reality and that's all you get.
In a tumultuous cascade of events, your world will crash and burn before your very eyes. And as you struggle with the aftermath of it all - life goes on. It doesn't wait for you. The clocks continue to tick whether you beat along with them or not. The waves will carry you and you can either drown in them or try to keep afloat.
Because that's just how life is. It's harsh and it's cruel.
But you want to know the worst part?
It's real.
