Sometimes the pain is too intense, and piercing. Triggered by an image, a song, an incident. Nothing is soothing at that moment. You simply don’t know what to do. Who to call or what to turn to. For you know nobody can calm you down; can fill the void; ease the acute, savage pain. You want to scream. You want to hit something. You want to bang your head to the walls. You want to, yes, hurt yourself. You want to do something stupid. Just to end the suffering. End it all.
You cannot; you have made promises to people; you know there are some, maybe a handful, who would rejoice seeing you perishing; you have things to do “first”. But above all, he wouldn’t want you to do it. If his mother and grandmother, and countless others are right, he came to this world for a reason. A purpose. And now it is up to you to fullfill that purpose. Spread his legacy. Tell the story of his strength, his happiness against all odds, his hope.
His eyes. His eyes… How can you, how would you live without seeing those eyes every day? Not being able to even entertain the possibility that you would see them again one day? Not in still pictures. Full of life. Smiling. Crying. Pondering. Curious. Obsessed. Demanding. Loving. Lovable. Lovely.
“Wordlessly watching. He waits by the window. And wonders. At the empty place inside. Heartlessly helping himself to her bad dreams. He worries. Did he hear a good-bye? Or even even hello? They are one person. They are two alone. They are three together. They are four each other.”