Thoughts at Midnight

I'm laying awake at night in my dark room and watching how the shadows play on my ceiling, how each and every flutter in front of my window sends a message to the darkness that covers my room to take another shape. Oh, but I know that it is only my mind that is playing tricks with me, and this knowledge makes this game more interesting. What do I see in the shadows, or what forms appear on the walls during a full moon, or... Or how can I sleep when the continuous flow of thoughts won't let my brain have a break... or a Kit Kat! I need to sleep! I'm fighting against my own consciousness and it seems like I'm on the losing side of the battle.

So I close my eyes to keep out the colors, the different shapes that the shadows take, but I cannot lock out the ragged rows of images that think that my eyelashes are projection screens. That's why I am lost in my own thoughts when I realized what todays date is: January 7. And I remembered that today is your birthday. How I wish to have a chance to celebrate it together just once more, to be able to give you your present and see the smile on your face, even if you did not like what I made for you.

It seems like it was yesterday when you walked me home from school one day in early June and you bought me chocolate flavored ice cream from the local store, how I couldn't shut up about the joke that my teacher made but you still just smiled at me and listened to my ramblings. If I look back at that moment, I'm not even sure that you were listening to me, but the illusion of it, your constant nodding was enough to appease my suspicion at the time. Or more likely I wasn't even considering the possibility of you not listening to my babbling, it wasn't even an option because I knew how much I meant to you.

We used to go to football matches together, supporting our home team, watching them attack and score, knowing all of their names and numbers, discussing how the coach made a terrible mistake with the starting eleven. Sometimes we would sit together but usually you were sitting with your group of friends and I would be with mine. The best part of it was the walk from the football field to home, during which we would argue about whose efforts were subpar and who was the player of the match. Secretly I would always like the players that you thought were great, just to agree with you. I adore you for not pointing out that my attempts were as transparent as a jellyfish in clear water. I love that our bond was that strong.

I remember so many things about you, about us, the memories that we shared, but I cannot seem to recall your last words to me. Or my last words to you. The guilt is all consuming. Did I say goodbye when we last parted, did I tell you that I love you? I don't know if I was more angry at you for being sick or scared that you were going to leave this earth. Seeing you get sick, your health rapidly decreasing was not enough for my younger self to believe that you weren't getting better. I thought that it was just a phase, that you would soon start to gain weight again, that your face will get its color back, that soon we will be able to eat our favorite foods together. I thought that we had more time. I thought that I had more time to say goodbye, so I did not pay attention to my words to you the last time we spoke, I thought I had tomorrow to listen to your voice, to watch your expressions change, so I didn't memorize your last words to me. I was so certain that I had more time with you that I wasn't even thinking about you that night. Funnily enough I remember the exact moment that I found out you were gone forever... I was in front of my computer doing something unimportant, when my dad came into my room. I knew something was wrong because of his bloodshot eyes, and because his voice broke when he told me that you died.

I couldn't cry then, but I cried the day after, and the day after, and I cried at your funeral, and I cried... a lot. And I'm crying now because of the realization that I don't remember what you looked like when I last saw you. I can only recall your face when you were healthy and your cheeks were rosy due to exercise. I'm afraid that I will forget the sound of your voice, I'm scared that I will forget your smile, but more than that, I'm terrified that I will forget about you. Not of the fact that you were part of my life at some point, but your role in making me the person I am today... I hope that day will never come.

As my eyelids are getting heavier and heavier, I'm slowly falling asleep, and I can only think about how much I really miss you. Happy Birthday Grandpa!