Farewell...

Hope and guilt...

With my eyes filled with tears, I followed the ambulance to the hospital. I tried make sure his family was reached and I wasn't going anywhere until they got there.

A couple of hours of numbness and unsettlement, they finally got there and I saw her, a woman I thought I'd never see again.

August Presley...that was her. The nurse introduced us and she recognised me almost seconds later.

"How do you know my nephew?" She asked, her eyes red for crying. I forgot a very important piece of information... Daniel was more than twice my age, therefore August was too. "We work- we worked together...to be honest he was one of my very few good friends. I'm so sorry for your-your loss." I said, unable to gather the words that left my mouth. She teared up, understandable. "thank you and I'm sorry for 'your loss' ... your name is again?" she said, as she hugged me. "Tiffany Baker... yourself?" "August Presley." She said and hugged me some more.

She took me down to the hospital café and bought us some tea and bran muffins, and they were tasteless, but what wasn't at that period in time?

"My sister passed a few years ago and Zeke was never scared to be without her and I guess I shouldn't be scared to live without to live without him, a son to me, an angel..." she said, smiling, trying to hide her obvious sorrow.

I understood this, missing someone, missing something and being unable to bring it back in anyway. It's a painful journey, loss and it was hard.

I held out my hand to her and I tried to comfort her, although there was very little to be done or said. "Sometimes angels fall. Zeke, he was an angel, been there for me , everyone and I think what we love about him is his honesty and ability to overcome his fears." I responded... I guess I was trying to console us both and I don't know about myself I couldn't console myself.

She smiled at me "My husband and son must be on their way now... I'd love to have you at the funeral. It would honestly be a pleasure." She said, patting my hand. "Uhm ... I have to go but I'll think about it." I said in response, I was so anxious upon meeting with Daniel ... I couldn't stomach it.

She wrote her number on a napkin and passed it to me. "Call me...whenever you need an ear, a friend, a chat or even help of any sort. I just appreciate your being here for my Zeke , even- even though he's gone." She said with a smile drenched in tears. I felt bad. Not just bad I just incredibly guilty. For all of it. "Thank you. I'll think about it and I must get home now. Will you be alright?" I asked, concerned, as I should've been anyways.

I was in a hurry, a hurry to be alone, in a hurry to not be okay, in a hurry to shatter and become the 'nothing' I truly was. I hurried out of there, without her reply but I guess she understood. I got to my apartment, my empty apartment.

I took my shoes off at the door, threw my keys on the kitchen counter and took out some cold red, velvety wine from the fridge. There was no need for formalities so I drank it from the bottle and I felt like I was not in the mood to care about such. What was the point of being proper? I sat on the counter, took off my shirt, unbuttoned my pants and laid on the counter, just laid there.

Remembering all the tough goodbyes in my life, my mom, my dad, my aunt, my first boyfriend and now, an honest friend and crush... I loved them all.

Goodbye was always hard, never been easy. Zeke being gone automatically brought back ghosts from my past, I wanted them to stay there, in the past. Whatever this meant I was sure I'd be able to say goodbye by going to the funeral and I actually saved August's number.

In my drunken state, I sent her a message assuring and confirming id be at the funeral. I won't deny how much of a void Zeke left, a friend, a good friend was gone... and so was my spirit, my love for life, art, all things green, religion and belief in any higher power... it had failed, this higher power failed to save Zeke from a death he didn't deserve.

I had lost hope. Hope of anything getting better after this, how could it get better? What would make it better? I didn't have energy to go to work for the rest of the week. I just slept all day and sat in silence, recalling all the cold things that were said to me in my lifetime. I felt sixteen again, lonely, helpless and weak. The thought of death constantly whispering in my ear...

depression slightly winning against hope and courage.