Walking Together Once Again
by Mariana Bechara
Our picture together. It has a few years, but the message it's as valid now as the day it was taken. you and I, walking together as if we knew where we were going.
At that moment we didn't know, but, frozen in time like in the picture. We will never be like that again.
Together and happy, healthy and alive, but most importantly, clueless of what's to come.
My life stopped being mine when you got sick. I stopped living because you, my life, were fighting for yours. And I knew that if you got to be with me again, we would be on borrowed time.
Sickness comes and never stops coming. Life stops and death begins and we don't know what's to come.
My life became your life. Your pain, mine. But my worries were mine alone. For two years, constantly, looking for danger just to keep you from it.
But sickness moves in silence, they come without warning and when they warned. My life was not enough.
And for so long I denied it, the feeling of you fading away, the fear of not seeing you again, that I wouldn't be enough (and I wasn't). The reality that you were feeling a pain that I couldn't feel for you.
And as the silence drove you away. I was being haunted by my fear, my worries, my mind.
And now that you are gone, all I can do is choose your picture, take care of your ashes, save your toys. Hope that, wherever you are, you are not alone. That you feel my love with you, because trust me, you will always be with me.
And while you wait for me, figure out how to live without your glance, your presence, your life. I live for the promise that we will meet again. In a way where we will not feel pain, where we get to talk again, just like we used to.
What else can I do? If not miss you, carry the burden of your absence, think about what I could have done. But what I did and didn't. It's already done. I promise you that your memory will not bring me pain if you promise me that you are at peace.
Wait for me, my love.
You and I will meet again
Can you see us?
Walking together once again.

Comments would be appreciated by the author, Mariana Bechara
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