I remember when I tried to tell you everything would be OK, still I knew everything was not OK, it was everything but that. How we hated change, how we wished things were different, I closed my eyes, I hugged you by the side. I had nothing else to do; your breathing was quick and spasmodic. “Just Breathe,” I told you. You had no answer, just some quick attempts of words, I’ve never seen you liked that, I loved you, it hurt me as much as it hurt you. And you seemed lonely, you wouldn’t let me in, I was an outsider, so close, so wanting to be inside, but it was too hard for me, for you.

I don’t actually remember it as an event, as a story or as a something. I know it happened, how it did, how I deny a whole lot of facts from it. That event is not a movie in my mind, but a big, huge division of an after and a before. I was sitting at one side of the bed when I heard the words. I cried. I cried for the whole day. I still do. Then, there is an after, a whole part of my life I cannot remember, I cannot grasp, I don’t want to remember when memories try to come back.

Later on, I stood by your side, we were holding hands, it was raining, I was also holding a black umbrella, drops made an almost symphonic-requiemish pattern, and the dripping of water in the edges made me cry even more. Your face was deep, cold, and incredibly sad. You let my hand go, I walked away. Your chasseurs in the muddy fields, across the flower beds, reaching the unreachable vaults of memory and loss. A scent of wild flowers, and pine, coming from the box at the center.

My eyes were swollen, I pressed my face in my uncles big black tux. I pretended I was sleeping, I didn’t want to see mom. A friend approached, and I continued to pretend my sleep, as I still do today. I didn’t know where my brother was. I was being hugged and carried across the grassy field with the big hole in the middle. I remember cameras, flowes, tears, microphones, and my childhood taken away.

It's not good at telling people, but this makes HER cry, when she remembers
reality is not fiction
trivia for penguins: who's big black tux is it?

[Mrs. K i t e ]
[make me feel nostalgic of the future]