Soundtrack (Scomiche)

25: Standing By (Part 3)

"But when we unite this will all have been a dream."

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December 1. 9:00 PM.

Nothing could have prepared me for that day. I no longer remember the things that happened or how exactly they happened, but I am reliving the pain each and every single day as if it was brand new. And it's killing me.

The ride to the hospital felt like the longest trip I've ever taken in my life. In one car was Kevin and Scott's parent's. We were in another. Avi was driving and Esther was seated opposite her. I was in the back seat with KT. She held my hand the entire time. For the first hour none of us said anything. There was even no music playing. The silence was deafening. I'm not a religious person but at that moment I prayed so hard for Scott to be okay. Scratch that, I just wanted him alive. I knew it was bad but I hoped it was someone else in that morgue, maybe someone without a family. Or someone who was already sick and was dying anyway. Or a criminal. I didn't care who it was. All I wanted was for that body not to belong to Scott.

Our collective strength only lasted an hour. By the second hour we were all a crying mess except for Avi. KT started it. I heard her sniffing. I refused to look at her because I know the tears were starting to flow. Then she started shaking. Then she broke down. I swear to god I tried to be brave but every fiber in my being was scared and seeing KT was the last thread. So I broke down and started crying. Esther followed. By the time we got to the hospital my head was pounding, my vision was blurry, my lips were numb and my top was wet from all the tears.

We were given directions to the morgue. I felt like my knees were going to give in and my feet were paralyzed. A part of me wanted to run ahead of everyone and show all of them that it wasn't Scott in there, but another part of me wanted to turn back and run away from what might be the truth.

Oh god, I need to breathe. My eyes are again hot with tears. I hate it. When will I ever stop crying?

Breathe in, breathe out. Write, Mitch. Try to finish it this time. 

So we got to the morgue. Somebody greeted us at the door. Esther talked to him and explained why were were there. He nodded and motioned for us to follow him. Then he stopped before a body covered in cloth. 

I wanted to scream for him to stop, to wait, because I needed a few moments to collect myself. But without asking he lifted off the top and showed us the head.

At that moment I felt the world stop. My brain stopped. My heart stopped. Every cell in my body stopped. It was as if somebody pounded my chest or punched my gut. Air refused to move through my lungs and I felt like I was choking.

It was Scott. The body was Scott's. MY SCOTT.

His face was badly bruised but I knew it was him. And he was lying there, lifeless.

I took a step closer and reached out my hand. I felt my skin burn when it made contact with his cold face.

Then I heard shouting - no, wailing - from Scott's mom shortly before she lost consciousness. Kitty started screaming, too, and the rest followed.

I stood there. Looking at him, holding his face. I was trying so hard to process that fact that the body before me belonged to Scott. That Scott was dead.

I don't know how long I stayed in the position. But then I leaned down and hugged him, and I came in contact with more cold skin. I guess that's when it hit me that it was actually Scott. I was holding Scott. Lifeless Scott. And I lost it.

I wailed, I screamed, I tried to hold him tighter. His body was so cold and hard. I managed to lift his upper body off the table but his arms fell to his sides. My Scott didn't hug me back and it broke me even more. I rocked with him in my arms, crying. I remember telling him to wake up. To please not be dead.

Then I kept whispering to him that I was sorry. That I didn't mean to leave. And that I loved him. That I loved him so, so much.

I put him back down and I reached for his hand. It was cold like the rest of his body. For a few seconds I waited for him to entwine his fingers in mine. But he didn't. Of course he didn't.

Then I tried to kiss him. Didn't true love's kiss always work in movies? But my Scott, he didn't wake up. 

I think I dropped to my knees on the ground after that, and I just cried. But I didn't let go of Scott's hand.

I don't know how long we stayed there, or how long I cried. I don't even know who was thinking straight enough to have fixed the papers. I guess we were there for a few hours before we were finally able to leave with his body.

The days that followed were a blur. We had a 2-day wake for Scott in LA before we had his body cremated. Then we all flew to Texas with his urn and had the memorial there.

They asked me to give a eulogy. I tried to make one, but I never got past a couple of sentences.

What were they expecting me to say? More importantly, how in the world could they expect me to bid goodbye? They lost a son, a brother, a friend. But what about me? I lost my BEST FRIEND. I lost the ONE PERSON I TRULY EVER LOVED. I lost my SOULMATE. I lost my HEART because Scott took it with him. I lost the REST OF MY LIFE.

I wish Scott took all of me with him. That way I wouldn't have to feel all this pain.

Today is the start of what was supposed to be the most festive and happiest month of the year. I don't know how I'll survive.

I've been sleeping in Scott's bed. The pillows and sheets still smell like him. The scent is fading but it's there. My tears must have washed away some of it because I've been crying myself to sleep at night.

When I wake up every morning, for a moment I forget all that has happened. But reality is cruel, and the truth instantly comes crashing down on me every single time. Then I remember that I am alone, and that Scott is no longer with me.

The process of trying to stay alive begins. The excruciating pain assaults every inch of my body, but it always focuses of my heart. I don't know how many more times it can break because right now, it's shattered into a million pieces and I can never put it back. I feel like I also have to fight to breathe. It's painful being alive when your spirit is crushed and you feel dead inside. Does that even make sense?

Everywhere I look in the apartment, I am reminded of all the memories that we shared. I want to say I see him everywhere, but the sad truth is I don't. They suggested that I move out, at least temporarily, while I heal. I know that they're only looking out for me, but I don't think they understand.

I will never be okay.

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December 24. 10:00 AM.

They say time heals all wounds. It's only been a little over 7 weeks but that should've been enough time, right? For at least a part of the wound to heal?

I think they're wrong. Because I feel as raw, hurt, and broken as the day Scott died. I haven't healed at all.

It's unfair. Scott and I barely shared anything together as a couple. We didn't even get to spend halloween. Now it's Christmas eve and I am alone. I'm already having my first one without him when I never even got to spend one "with him". And it sucks. We deserved to spend this occasion together. We deserved a few more years.

Scott didn't deserve to die and I didn't deserve to be left behind.

They keep telling me that I now have an angel watching over me. People who tell me that could go to hell. I don't need an angel. I need Scott.

God. I hate this. I hate everything. 

Probably the one thing I hate the most is the fact that I never had the chance to tell Scott how much he truly meant to me. He died thinking I hated him. I told him "fuck you". Those were my last words to him, words that I don't even mean. I will regret that every single day for as long as I live.

I would kill for a chance to tell him that I loved him.

I love him. Not loved. Love. Present tense.

I just know in my heart that there will never come a time when I will stop loving Scott.