Terrible Things

                          

7th February 2019
Rose day:

On your tombstone, it is written – “On 14th of February, Peter Stan went out of love to give, but never stopped receiving it.”

It has been 14 hours and 359 days since you passed away. I miss you.

Today is rose day, so I’ve come to celebrate it with you.

I put a red rose on the ground – underneath it, you’re sleeping peacefully. I sit there with a blank mind, scratching the dirt. I wonder if departed people find love beyond death, too?

I think of your beautiful face, the last time I saw you, your lips were pale, you had lost your hair and your eyes were heavy, but somehow, you were smiling. You with your goddamn beautiful smile.

I look at the rose lying above you that will always remain unaware of your touch. In this sudden silence, I remember an old conversation we had. You had said, “I’m like a rose. I open petal by petal. Before I talk to you, you’ll have to talk to me about your things – friendship, love, betrayal and regrets.” I’m glad we talked. Love is a hidden sin if you bury it in between the pages and I have been committing it for a long time now. I know you would want me to let you go just like everyone else. But I think I know what you would say to me – “you never truly forget the person when you love them. You must start loving someone else, but you should never forget your old love.” I know I’ll not forget you.

Today, I am here to tell you, I will love someone else, and if I do, I’ll tell that person all about you. But before I really let you go, I want to tell our story to everyone else, just one more time.

Come back tomorrow, and I’ll talk about the propose day.

8th February 2009
Propose Day:

I was sitting in a café, lost in between the pages of a book I’d picked randomly from the reading table. Looking back in time, I quite can’t remember the name of the book although it was one of the many reasons how we started talking.

It was his favorite book.

He came up to me and said, “aren’t you from the school?”

Looking up at him, I corrected him, “yes, we’re from the same school.”

He blushed. “A nice read.” He pointed at the book.

I closed the book and asked him, “have you read it?”

“I have,” he told me and beamed with pride.

I looked at him again. He had his warm aura around him like he understood and felt life. He was just seventeen. And I was just a year younger. “So, what’s your name?”

“Peter Stan.” He put his hand forward.

“I’m Tracy.” I smiled, shaking his hand.

“You come here often?”

“Not really. Do you?”

“every Saturday.”

“I think I can manage every Saturday too.”

“that’s stalking.” I couldn’t help but smile.

“not if the other person is okay with it.”

“I think I’ll be okay with it.”

He smiled, again. “it was Rose Day yesterday…”

“It was?” I raised an eyebrow.

“And I wanted to ask if you got any roses?”

“Did you?”

“A couple of them, yes.”

“okay.”

“But I wanted to give it to you if it’s okay with you?” he was blushing.

“I’ve never received roses from anyone but I’m certain you don’t ask.”

“In my defense, I’ve never done this before!” he said, embarrassed.

I laughed. “ Yes, you can give me a rose, and propose to me, too.”




9th February 2011
Chocolate Day:

It’s been two years now. A common book brought us together and we haven’t stopped talking about books and music and movies.

The straight path to one’s heart is to appreciate the similarities and acknowledge the differences, too. He was allergic to them. I mean if he ate a chocolate bar, his face would be covered with pimples. Last year, he had a pimple on his nose. It was funny.

So, last year, we decided that he’ll buy me chocolates, too. And this will happen for all the years that are to come.

It’s a win-win situation for both of us.

But here is what made this chocolate day special – he stole all my chocolates and hid them. His younger sister helped him hiding my chocolates. I know she did it to get my chocolates.

He turned our local playground into a mystery scene. Everywhere, he left clues. One clue led to another. The local kids had joined in on this “great adventure” and I could interrogate them to find clues.

Good news is that there is always a mole in the gang. It took me only two hours to be able to convince one of the kids to turn against his gang. I told him, “I’ll share some of my chocolates with you.” He bought although I lied to him.

There may be nothing significant on this day to everyone else and I guess that’s okay. But it’s significant to me. Because he was moving to a different city a week later, and he made sure I’d something to remember and it was just not another goodbye.




10th February 2013
Teddy Day:

Long distance love is a lot of struggle. We talk to each other on Facebook, but the presence… that’s important.

It’s been two years since he moved to a different city. All our friends told us that we will forget each other. He will find someone there and I’ll find someone else. It’s a part of life, they say.

I disagree. When a piece of a puzzle goes missing, we cannot put in a different piece. We complete the puzzle and it looks great, but the missing piece, that gets the most attention. All the pieces are important. All the love you have had are important.

So, in 2012, I spent my Valentine Week over phone calls and handwritten letters. And in 2013, we spent it in his room, under the blanket, naked, and giggling.

But how did we get here? Let me rewind the story a little bit.

Early in the morning at around 10am, my dad called out my name from downstairs. Lazily, I stepped out of my bed, put on the slippers and dragged my tired bones out of the room. Mom and dad were both standing just near the staircase. Beside them stood a teddy bear. And it was not just something I could put it in my backpack or on a shelf. The humongous teddy was just about my size.

I ran down the stairs, and stood near it, knowing Peter sent it to me.

“Peter sent it,” dad said. “Look closely.”

I looked closely. The tiny hands. One hand had a small note stuck to it and the other had a rose.

I tore the wrapper and finally touched the teddy. It was… soft. I took the note and the rose and started reading –

“Firstly, if you’re reading this, it must be around 11 in the morning. If you receive this gift any time after 1pm, I’m sorry for not executing the surprise properly and making things a hassle for you.

Now, along with this note, I have attached your flight tickets. Your flight leaves at 5:30pm. Once you land, come to the restaurant I told you about last night on the call. I hope you remember the name. if you don’t, your quest to find the name begins. (Hint: I’m cooking the food.)

Note-Don’t tell me if you’re coming. I want it to be a surprise for me.

PS I love you.”

I blushed.




11th February 2016
Promise Day:

We’ve had our moments even with all this distance, but he has returned home. We’ve spent birthdays over Skype and met at least once in a year, and now that he has returned, I’m scared. How do you explain the feeling where you want him to be closer to you but at the same time you know the reason behind his closeness is killing him?

The truth is that no amount of love will ever change our ending.

He has been diagnosed with lung cancer, limited stage- which means that the cancer has only spread on the left side of the chest.

One early morning, the bell rang and he stood outside the door with his parents. This was supposed to be a surprise but it felt wrong. The air I was breathing in smelt of ashes suddenly. His smile was forced and the surprise was an effort to look for happiness in all this sadness.

Alone in my room, I asked him, “Is everything okay?”

He looked at me with tears in his eyes. I was confused. I wanted to cry with him, too, but I knew it’ll hurt him more. I sat there, holding back my tears, waiting for the worst.

With a sigh, he told me about his cancer. As I heard him talk about his illness, I was searching for a hint of a lie like it was a joke. It wasn’t. he meant his words, all of it.

I sat there, numb. I had given in to the uneasiness. Once you find comfort in sadness, you will lose something that is a part of you. Sadness kills you, slowly. All the things he said to comfort me sounded like a big lie written on the universe. It’s all blurred, but I know I wasn’t crying.

How did we get here? He had kept it hidden from me for almost a year. I asked him for some time to think.

A month later, on Promise Day, he sent me a CD.

I started playing it.

It was a compilation of all the days we had spent together. Everything was there in those three minutes. And then, he started speaking – “I’ve spent all my important days with you. I want to spend the ending days, too. I promise to keep you in my heart. I don’t want to leave you in my heart as a memory. I’m sorry. Stay.”




12th February 2017
Hug Day:

It’d be a lie if I said he was doing better. He had lost weight and his medicines were still on. His collarbones were now visible and he could comfortably fit into small size clothes.

It’s quite remarkable when you remember little random things about a person. These little things, you keep them within you and you remember them, even when they mortally die. Somehow, they live.

It’s Hug Day today, and this was going to be our first valentine in so many years that we’re celebrating together.

Mom and dad had left us alone in the living room and we were reading Percy Jackson, holding each other’s hand.

It happened… he started coughing, loudly. Harshly. Blood spit out from his mouth and he curled up on the floor, coughing. I panicked, not knowing how to ease is pain. I shouted for help and my parents came rushing in, helping him sit up. Mom offered him a glass of water while dad made a phone call.

I sat there, shivering and crying, looking at a life so precious to me running out of breath and I couldn’t catch them for him.

His coughing stopped but he was breathing heavily and there was blood on his lips. We made him lie down on the sofa and sat there quietly. His eyes were closed and now his breathing was shallow and slow.

I called out his name, but he didn’t open his eyes. The ambulance arrived just around that time and somehow asked if he can walk. He nodded meekly and mom helped him stand up. He looked at me with sadness for not being enough.

I forced a smile and put my hands around his neck. He struggled to hold me, too, but he did, he was too weak.

He was taken to the hospital where his parents would be waiting. Mom had asked me to stay home for the time being. I didn’t agree.

Later that night, I found that the doctors had put him on bed-rest but travelling everyday to come to see me had affected his health.

I felt guilty because I was excited about this Valentine.




13th February 2018
Kiss Day:

He was playing chess on the bed with my dad. Only a week ago, he had been discharged from the hospital. Doctors had already

subtly told us that he doesn’t have much time. Upon his request, we had him discharged.

Perhaps, he wanted to feel at home to ease his pain. Perhaps, we all wanted him to stop suffering.

Back at home, he was happy.

Later at night, when everyone resorted to their bedrooms, he and I were on his bed together. I looked at the wall-clock, it was an antique one with a pendulum ticking every second. It was 11:58pm.

He looked at me and closed his eyes, and I kissed him. Those pale lips, I did. It was gentle but there was passion in it. We both felt it.

As it turned midnight, the clock’s bell rang. And he asked, “Finally, a valentine with you.”

I gave him a stare. He laughed.

“I mean, will you be…?

“Yes, yes,” I cut him.

He grunted, “Let me complete.”

“Will you-”

“Yes.” I put my hand on my mouth. “Sorry.”

“Will you be my Valentine?” he said in one short breath.

“Yes, yes, yes!”

It was past two o’clock and he had fallen asleep, snoring meekly. I passed out after some time later.

In the morning, I woke up, startled. Our parents stood near the bed, weeping and waiting. A doctor rushed in and I stepped out of the bed, giving him my place. He settled down beside Peter and checked him.

I think the hardest moment in a man’s life is to tell the truth about a lost life. The doctor said nothing, but we knew. He had passed away in his sleep.

There was no pain. I looked at Peter, and there it was… that gentle smile around his lips. It was there. He was happy.

14th February 2019
Valentine’s Day:

So, here we are, a year later – we’ve learnt to struggle with our loss and we’ve learnt to live without him.

We all are old by a year, and he remains the same.

Love is not about making a promise to be forever around, but yet we’ve to make a promise. Forever is not until the end of the days, but maybe just a day. It’s special, different. And if it’s not making you feel special, it’s not being in love even when it sounds irrational and stupid.

If you have lost a love, too, you will know what I’m talking about. Each day is going to remind you of him and the world is never going to let you forget him because everything around is occupied by him.

And it’s okay to not forget him and to be with someone else, too. They say, there are things one must forget to keep living, and partially it is true, but I’ll say it – don’t forget the things that made you alive at some point.

I’m not preaching where I tell you to move on and look forward. You don’t have to if you don’t want to. But if anywhere inside your head you say this to yourself: “I’m waiting for the right moment”, then stop waiting. The idea of waiting for the right time or for things to happen is denial. Most of us just spend our days, saying,

the time is not right. But what if time wants you to take control of the situation and let you make it your own time? It’s both the goodness and cruelty of time - it gives you opportunity to make the best of things, but it never reveals if it is being certain. You will never know the right time. It will come and may pass in the blink of an eye.

I’m telling you this,

Because life can do terrible things.

We all have our little whimsical flaws, I know we do. Mine is that I’m stuck in love with a man who is far from my reach, and the worst part is that I don’t know if any of us ever get to meet the one we love afterlife… in death. We just don’t know, but I would like to hope that it happens.

So here I am, again, telling you that I’m letting you go, Peter, but keeping you forever within me.