7:00pm
For about two months, Mark and I have been working our hearts out. Mark works during the days, I work during the nights.
The only reason we've been working so hard is to get to where we are now.
A house.
"It's beautiful!" Mark skips around the house that we worked so hard to pay for.
The house is small yet spacious. The backyard is large enough for Mark to make his dream garden, the floors are wood enough to make trees weep, the rooms are big enough to fit king sized beds. I'd say this house is quite a steal for the low price we bought it for.
I smile as Mark runs around the house like a little kid. It's adorable.
His hair bounces up and down as he hops in excitement. I rest a box down in the kitchen containing the microwave.
"I can take this one out." Mark offers to help.
"Go ahead." I don't refuse. "It's not that heavy." I hand him the mircowave, in which he easily manages to set it down onto the counter.
I remember months ago when I helped Mark move into his apartment and his sister, Tammy, kept kicking him down. Mark's weak but you don't make a weak person feel weak. You make them feel strong.
Mark is strong. He can handle things all by himself. Like the burden of knowing that his life can end at any minute.
"Thank you." Mark smiles at me.
"For what?"
"For accepting me." Mark grabs my hand, I squeeze his hand in return.
During these past two months, Mark's family visited from Los Angeles one day.
I met his mother, his father, his other siblings and Tammy-lyn again. They were nice people. They greeted me warmly and they thanked me for taking their son's/brother's heart.
They were loving and caring until Mark told them about the time limit on his life.
Understanding is not in their family name.
They told him to continue to do the chemo. To continue taking the medicines. To continue to do the things that hurt Mark worst than the illness itself.
His mother had hysterical tears. His father begged him to come back to America. And his siblings hugged their brother to say how much they love him.
Mark's mother still texts him about continuing treatments. But, I'm the only one who understands that the treatments won't help. Nothing can help.
I accept that I'm going to lose Mark any day and he's thankful for that.
"You're welcome, my love." I pinch his pale cheek.
He giggles.
"I call dibs on the biggest room!" Mark runs upstairs.
"Wh-no you don't!" I chase after him to play along with his tricks.
I accept his goofiness. I accept his bizarre personality. I accept his sad fate.
I accept Mark for who he is and for who he will become:
An angel.
I'm about to spam these chaps srry(:
