October
Sunday 2 February 2014 photo 1/1
|
Jag behövde bara få ut det någonstans, okej?
Just a week before it happened I decided I’d get your pawprint tattoed on me, so that you would always be with me no matter what happened between us.
It was a thursday. I came home and you were so happy to see me, I was happy to see you too. We were so close that day, closer than normally. Maybe you knew it would be our last time together, who knows.
I didn’t walk that far with you that day because God, was it cold outside. Instead, we spent the afternoon in bed together. I watched a movie and you slept beside me.
After a while I wanted to take a bath. I knew how much you liked to be with me while I bathed. The warmth would soothe you, you’d find comfort in the noise of the running water, and my terrible singing. You found peace there somehow. But today you wouldn’t come with me. Sometimes you’d just back away when I invited you in with me, because you were scared you’d be the one bathing and not me. You hated to bathe.
A few hours later, and a few hours into the last day, I took a bath again. It was 2am and this time you came with me. I bathed for a really long time, and you slept so well beside my clothes. I could hear you snoring even through the water.
After my bath I snuggled up in bed, and gently brushed the cover, inviting you to come sleep next to me. This time you didn’t hesitate, and you laid down by my side really close, I hugged you.
This was the first and last night you slept by my side through the whole night. Normally, you’d hop down from the bed because I’m so warm. But this time maybe the warmth of my body was comforting to you. It comforted me too, the warmth of you. Whenever I woke up from nightmares, I’d just bury my face into your furry neck and fall asleep a moment later, knowing you were by my side, protecting me from everything that would ever try to harm me.
When I woke up on friday morning and found you sleeping on the exact same spot I was happy.
When I was going to leave you behind for school I did what I always did, got dressed and went up to you. You always sat in the exact same place every time I left you. I kissed your forehead and patted your head, and told you I’d be back soon.
I was surprised to see my mother still in at home before I left, I asked her why she was still at home. She said she’d work late today. I believed her.
God, I’ve always been gullible.
I still don’t know when exactly you died, but I was probably in a classroom at that time, enjoying the company of my friends. Just a few blocks away from where you struggled to keep your heart beating. The fact that I could’ve made it there in just a few minutes if I had just known haunts me every night.
It wasn’t until tuesday the week after I got to know about your death. The weekend passed without me knowing about how you were no longer alive, not knowing about how I would never come back to you as I promised.
Looking back I felt that something was weird though, I’d have nightmares all weekend, and the air was just not the same. I brushed off this weird feeling though, the past weeks had been amazing after all. Nothing could go wrong right now.
On Tuesday I had spent an afternoon at a friend’s place, celebrating her 19th birthday. I was asked to stay over, I said I couldn’t, that I had to go home to you because you were waiting for me.
I took the bus and hopped off a bit away from where we lived. Walking through the same streets we’d been walking on for years, thinking about where we’d go next. You had a favourite street and I passed it. I thought I’d walk you there before bed, as an apology for staying away for so long.
When I opened the door it was dark. I remember the exact moment my heart stopped. It took too long for you to greet me at the door. My cat Diza was first to greet me, which was rare. Five seconds passed. I called for you. Two more seconds passed. I understood.
I didn’t even have to look at my mother’s face when she wiggled accross the room in her white bathrobe, stinking of alcohol and unclean bedsheets.
My heart stopped. My mother apologised.
What still haunts me is the fact that I didn’t get there in time.
When I close my eyes at night al I can see is how they called for you, you happily ran to them and thought you’d get a walk. They’d say the word “car" and you’d be even more excited. You loved car rides. Even if you were as carsick as I was. You were so silly. You’d happily jump into the car, not even noticing that your humans weren’t as happy as you were, they were probably teared up at this part. But you were used to it. Things hadn’t gone well for your humans lately, anyway.
I keep imagining the fear you’d feel when they drove up by the veterinarian clinic. I keep imagining how they probably had to drag you out of the car you loved so. You had to hop out of it for the last time.
I know little about what really happened, but I know that my mother refused to go with you into the very clinic, that she sent grandmother to walk you in. You trusted grandmother as well, yet she brought you closer to what would take your life in the very end.
I don’t even want to think about what happened next. It probably became really violent in the room, you were skinny but very strong. They probably had to hold you down, at least two people. I don’t know what was your last thought, or what you were thinking of during al of this. You were probably really scared. You probably wondered what you had done wrong. You probably wondered where I was, the person you trusted the most.
I know they cremated your body. When mother told me I had to hold down my breakfast not to throw up in my very hands, my hands that by this time were shaking uncontrollably. They burned you, my sweet, beloved baby. You who fell asleep in my arms at the age of one month, slightly smaller than any of my stuffed animals. You, who provided me with safety at night. Who helped me stay alive, who gave me a purpose by needing me so, by loving me so. You didn’t exist anymore, and your body was mere dust.
That day I stared blank at everything. I couldn’t concentrate, I couldn’t eat.
I went home early from school. My teacher had thrown me out of the classroom after noticing I wasn’t productive. I spent an hour crying in the bathroom, waiting for my bus to get me away from there.
While walking to the bus I couldn’t handle looking anywhere but down on the concrete. Everywhere there, I had been with you. Everywhere I looked were places filled with memories of when I wasn’t lonely, when you were by my side.
The bus drove around my mother’s home, and passed almost every route we’d walk daily. I felt sick. I had to look down on my lap and avoid the window as much as I could, while tears were streaming down my face.
I spent my day in bed crying, tighting the grip of the baby blanket I gave to you three and a half years ago, when a promise was made from me to you, a promise that we’d always be together, and that I’d always protect you no matter what. I felt that maybe if I tightened my grip hard enough I’d feel you for the last time. I was desperate to run my fingers through your soft, golden fur just one last time.
Remember how I hated it when you licked me? That’s all I ever wanted in that very moment. Anything that would indicate that you were alive would do.
Instead, all I had left of you was this blue blanket, way too small for you. I used to be able to wrap you into a tiny burrito with it. It was filled with tiny white and yellow hairs still, I was careful not to let any of them fall off.
These past weeks have been horrible. Every step I’ve walked and every breath I’ve taken has felt like knives in my gut. Food didn’t appeal to me no matter how much my stomach growled. The adventures in my books couldn’t ever measure to the adventures we used to take. Not any movie was as magical as the friendship I shared with you. And everything, every single thing around me reminded me of you.
My mother has tried to contact me ever since you died. Stating that she misses me and wants me back. I don’t know how I could ever go back. She who admitted to letting a stranger kill you just like that. I can’t look at her anymore. I’ve ignored her.
I’ve tried to handle it with maturity. I’ve tried to enjoy other things. Movies, company of my beloved friends, daily things. It is working, but I still find myself with tears in my eyes at different times of the day. On the bus at 7am in the morning, or in my bed at 3am in the morning, or in a bathroom in school, where I’ve sinked down to the floor with my hands covering my face as I admit I can’t deal with this anymore.
I hope that maybe you’ll forgive me, for not being there when you needed me the most. For not saving your life.
I know I’ll never forgive myself. I let my guard down and look what happened.
I miss you so much my friend, please rest in peace wherever you are. You would’ve deserved a pretty grave. If you had a grave I’d decorate it with the prettiest flowers and visit you every day.
My friend said that cremation isn’t as bad as it may sound. Because when you spread the ashes the whole world becomes your grave. I do not know where your ashes were spread, or what happened to it, but I like to think that the whole world is your grave now or at least our town, that you’re still roaming the streets as the little prince you always were. That you’re still somehow by my side even if I can’t see you.
See you sometime, baby darling.
Please forgive me.
Annons
Comment the photo
Anonymous
Wed 19 Feb 2014 18:13
okay wow tears everywhere right now. You wrote it in a very beautiful way indeed..I have no words because I can't just...
6 comments on this photo
Directlink:
http://dayviews.com/snugg/517302068/
Visa toppen
Show footer