The fault in our stars dear diary

Dear Diary

Dear Diary

Life after Gus was hard. I would be lying if i said otherwise, the time keeps on going but I'm stuck with what looks like no way out.

I had a recent visit with Dr Maria and she said my cancer is all clear, all fluid from my lungs has gone, just like Augustus Waters. I love Dr Maria, I realized this a few days after Gus died. Without her, i now see that I would not have gone to Amsterdam, I would not have allowed myself to fall in love with the tall, mahogany haired, metaphor addict that I now miss more than I ever thought possible. A few days after the news of Augustus Waters spread flowers were sent to my house, some where from claimed friends of Augustus, but none of those mattered. Dr Maria had sent me flowers and in the flowers was a box of  cigarettes with a little note that read: "I'm not invited to the funeral, but I heard he always liked to have a box of these handy. Do me a favour Hazel, give them to him. With all the love the earth could have, Dr Maria." Since then I realized all the work she does for me. 

I am now in remission and I am only writing this because my new therapist, given to me by Patrick because of my lack of attendance at support group, insisted i did so just so I could let my feelings out about Gus. I tried to explain that I only wished to talk to Gus about his death and now it seems my therapist, Emma, thinks I  have fallen into the state of depression, it is very often that i get referred to this depression but I am not depressed. I have said this from the beginning. I am dying. Despite being in remission I still have the oxygen tank which is named Phillip. Mum seemed to think I should rename Phillip to Gus because Gus was the one who had saved my life. I refused because Gus never saved my life, he opened my eyes. No matter how long you deny an illness, or disease or even a flaw, it will not go away. You can pretended it does not exist but it'll come back and be worse on you. Gus never pretended to not have a prosthetic leg. He never pretended not to have osteosarcoma and that is what made him great. When you are diagnosed with Cancer it is like a weight is put on you and the weight either crushes you or someone lifts it off you, but Gus is, was different. Instead of waiting to either be killed or to be saved he lifted the god dammed weight off of himself and carried it around with him and the best part is he made it look easy.  

I haven't changed much since the death of my star crossed lover, and this diary thing is not going to be a start. Do not think of me as a girl that is so obsessed with fantasy that is now oblivious to reality. I am not, and will never be that type of girl. But I am writing this diary for the same reason i went to support group which is the same reason i'd once allowed nurses with a mere eighteen months of graduate education to poison me with exotically named chemicals; I wanted to make my parents happy.  My parents now knew that I was no longer going to be attending support group despite their worries they agreed with the compromise I'd go see Emma weekly at least. I did miss support group but I know going back to the small church, being sat in the literal hear of Jesus would just make me miss more, if that was possible. My Dad had arranged time of work but he really didn't need too. I was fine, healthy and although i still feel the gut dropping feeling when Gus is mentioned. I am dealing with his death.  I had told Dad this but he insisted on staying off work until his funeral. At least.  Dear Diary, would it be bad to say that I do not want to go to his funeral? Of course I am attending but there is no part of me ready to let go. When the curtains close around him he would be gone. My one love, would be gone. Gus parents had arranged a cremation because that is what he wanted. Gus had also asked for me to have half of his ashes because he found something creepy but peaceful about being halved with his family and me. I'm going to his funeral because if I didn't go then I know i'd regret it. Now's my time to move on. But i don't want too. No part of me wants to move on, or let go but his funeral is tomorrow and I have to be prepared. I will once again have to read my eulogy but this time, it'll be for real. Augustus will no longer be able to flash me the crooked smile or comment on the way that i read like i had done many months ago. Now it'd be me saying goodbye to him. 

My mum still insists on me sleeping with bluie, and I do now, not just because it'll make her happy but Bluie, is comforting in the only way a small stuffed bear could be. But everything seemed to wound up on Gus. All of the invited guests were permitted to give one gift only and I made sure my mum was prepared to give the cigarettes Maria had wanted him to have. I bargained with the funeral director to allow me to give two gifts, one a photo frame with a letter inside. A letter that will be his, and his alone. The other a pack of cigarettes because I know now that wherever he is its okay for him to light them.

I hope Gus is doing okay.

Wherever my love is, I promise to be there soon but no sooner than I have to be

Hazel