You insist to go outside today. Such a sunny day, you say, would be a sin to stay at the room. The nurse say no until they call your doctor. After hesitating first, the doctor finally allows you. Who would say no to a wish of last stage cancer survivor?
I push you outside. Yes, it’s a nice day. The warmth of the summer finally kick your body. And you smile.
There are two children laughing besides their mothers. One with a tube in her nose and one with a wheelchair. I sit next to you in the park. Stay silent just watching the kids play.
After a while you finally say, “when i die..”
“If”, i interrupt you.
You laugh and continue. “If i die, would you be sad?”, you ask.
Sad? Miserable! I answer.
You nod. You then tell me that it’s okay to be miserable a week or two. Then you want me to promise afterward, I will move on.
I nod. Just to end the conversation. How you’re still thinking about me when you die later hurts me. You still have not change even when you’re dying. I know you do. And I know it’s about time. So I hold your hand tight. Tighter than I should. And you hold me back weakly. We stay like that for what seems like forever.
And slowly you release me.
And just like that, I know you’re already gone.