by CJ Lyons
Dearest Wednesday, I bid you a fond farewell. We’ll never meet again in this life.
1 Day, 26 February, Thursday
I decided to be diligent until the end. I’ll write, even though I could be with him. This is for you.
When we got home, we took photos together. Terra brought home a little throw-away camera, and we proceeded to take a ridiculous amount of pictures.
“What? How shall I sit for the photograph?” Noah obviously didn’t quite grasp the idea of spontaneous photo taking.
“Just come here, sit beside me.” I held the camera out at arms length, grinning madly into the ever-staring lens. “Smile! And hope we’re actually in the frame!”
I took a few pictures of just him, and he for me. I got a few really good ones of him with a bunch of daisies. I like the simplicity of daisies for him. They’re so unassuming and pristine.
Then, for the last few, Terra took a few of Noah and I together. Even the cliché kissing shot.
There were three left on the camera when I thought to take a picture with Terra. She’ll appreciate it when I’m gone, I think.
Or maybe she’ll hate it. I mean, I would understand. A photo just taunts the viewer in the present with the once attainable past. A glimmer in my eye that will soon be extinguished.
We sat together on the couch, and I could feel her happiness just pouring over me. She had no idea that tomorrow…
I’ll be gone.
Gone.
I don’t want to leave them.
I don’t want to die.
I want to stay with them.
I don’t want to die!!!
0 Days, 27 February, Friday
As I woke, I felt him in my arms. It’s his birthday. I woke him with kisses, and soft touches. The best kisses so far. He kept smiling into them, and I could feel his happiness on my lips. I feel like a monster, knowing that I’m going to take that happiness away.
Today was cold. Snow fell all day. Wondered how I was going to die. Thought maybe in my sleep, or falling down the stairs.
Everything had me on edge today. I convinced myself so completely that I was going to be killed at any moment. It’s not a pleasant frame of mind.
We did have a really nice birthday party for Noah today; Ariel, Julia and Zack all came over for dinner and cake. I’ve never seen Noah so cheerful.
He was so infectiously happy, it just made the rest of us happier for it. Ariel took tons of photos with her digital camera, which I thought was good.
I said goodbye more meaningfully to Ariel, Julia, and Zack, making sure to give them all hugs. I didn’t want to let on that I would never see them again, but since I’m out of days… it’s the last time they’ll ever see me alive.
Julia seemed kind of grim, the same kind of attitude as me. Zack was bemused by the hug, but returned it all the same. Ariel was as cheerful as ever, calling out a happy ‘See you Monday!’ as they departed. My heart ached as she called those words, the returning phrase of ‘No, you won’t’ scratching my throat. She mentioned she’d bring the photos on Monday too. Those photos of all of us, happy and alive.
More memories kept in a tangible form. I hope they bring comfort instead of pain. I am guessing the latter. Which is terrible. But I can’t help thinking that, if Noah was the one to die, those pictures would make me unbearably sad to look at. Posterity is evil. Once these wounds are recorded on the page, they become more real, and cannot be lost in memory.
This blank page is my enemy.
Here is my ally, this pencil, cutting words into the paper, wounding the once clean page with stories of pain.
His story, and mine, must be written, even if the paper is screaming in agony from these beautiful, torturous words.
These scars will remain, remnants and reminders of those memories etched within these pages.
In terms of pain, this pen is mightier than any sword.
Because a sword may inflict pain, but the pen will remember it forever.
The only way to heal, is to leave things in memory, where they can erode with time.
In memory.
In memory.
Goodbye.
-1 Days, 28 February, Saturday
I’m alive.
I’m awake.
Maybe… maybe I’m not going to die.
I’m so happy I could cry.
Seeing the dawn, the sun, the snow, everything beautiful…
Noah already left to meet his sister. I’m going to meet him.
I’m alive.
In Memory
/end.
198