Closure

 

I trembled, weaving between my fingers, the hem of my shirt. My desperate eyes that had so bravely fought to preserve our memories, I could finally feel the heaviness of the heart. I didn’t lift them. I didn’t dare meet her eyes. Those tiny, glimmering eyes had the strength of the sea to pull me in and drown my fears. In the way they spoke to me, words felt meaningless. So, I turned away. I had to. I couldn’t let her convince me, not this time. I sulked, sliding into my bed, looking out of my dusty bedroom window. The sky looked pale, the trees were all brown as if solemnly reflecting my despair. I couldn’t decide whether to use this moment to spout my anger, my hurt or stay like that, silent, hostile. But she knew. Of course, she knew that I was only pretending. I could feel her caress on my fingers and free the shirt from the brunt of my anger. With each stroke on my hand, she was wiping away the frown from my forehead. 

I was desperate to stay unrelenting, wishing for my anger to stay between us, convince her, but I could feel myself giving in. As she held my hand and wrapped her slender fingers around, our palms embraced and her warmth percolated my skin. Inch by inch she was melting the agony, the sadness, and the frustration I felt for her. I could feel it precipitate as tears in my eyes. With a lump in my throat, I whispered, “Don’t leave me.” I could feel her fingers loosen around my palm, but I couldn’t let go. I had to hold on. So I did, as tightly as possible to keep her with me longer. “I don’t know a life without you?” “Of course you do!” She beamed with such confidence that only she could have in me. 

“And we both know how at times I want to tear it apart. How can I move on if your scent is in the air, everywhere, your words are in my words and your songs are in my dreams?” My throat dried up. I choked, sobbing. There were no words left for me to say. I could only hold my breath and wait for her to say something. In those five seconds of complete silence, my helplessness screamed the loudest. “Then we have nothing to worry about,” she finally spoke. “You can keep me alive forever.” I opened my swollen eyes and turned to meet hers. She sat next to me with a smile so beautiful that it glistened in her eyes. Then I couldn’t look away and slowly stopped trying. I gave in. It took her just a few seconds to take in all my sadness, and I let her. Her hand was no longer wrapped around mine, but her touch remained. I sat up looking around. She was gone. I closed my eyes, but my mind still bore the impression of those unfathomable eyes, surrounded by deep folds of skin. Amidst the darkness of these times, her smile still shone. 

They say, all I have left of my Grandma is the photo frame on the side of my bed, but to whom can I confess that there is still much more. Then in all her strength I started searching for that courage to carry on. I owe her that. She had granted me the wish of those last few words with her, three years after they said she had left me. But she’s here, still here, in the air, in my words, and in those dreams.