2. THE DECISION

The days following his sleep passed in blur. I still couldn't bring myself to say 'his death'. That was too intense, too real, too final. I lost myself. Just like a switch, I was turned off by the news of his demise. The days turned into weeks, the weeks into months and through it all, I wished I was with him, freezing in the mortuary. I was gradually slipping away, but why won't I?. The only one I found solace in was no more. Like charfs blown by the wind, he was gone with the blink of an eye. Life lost all meaning once again and I couldn't stop thinking. 'Have I wronged someone?. Is life having a grudge with me?'. I was in soo much pain that I felt like throwing my hands up and shouting at the world' You won, bitch. You fucking won. You have proved your point already by taking away my parents. Did you have to go this far?. Take my siblings out and he was all I had. But you didn't consider that, right?. Do you even know what I'm going through now huh, motherfucker?!'. I wasn't a fan of swearing but that was what I felt like saying, and I knew I wouldn't get answers, so I didn't bother asking. His funeral was short and I was just there in person. I couldn't bring myself to walk to his coffin. We always joked about him wearing a suit, cause he never wore any. And the only time I get to see him in one is when he is no more? I just couldn't. I didn't imagine the first and only suit he wore would also be his last. I left early, right after he was carried away. What issue did I have there, the only one I cared about was as lifeless as the chair I sat on. I cried bitterly, if tears was a crime, I would have done time. According to friends, he looked very annoyed, nowhere near peaceful. How could he look peaceful, when his only love was not at peace? It just wasn't fair.

I tried to recover. Tried. It never worked. He was always in my dreams. The nightmares were crazy. As insane as it may sound, I didn't mind seeing him, even it was in horrible, horrifying nightmares. I lost count of the number of times I couldn't sleep, of the number of times I just couldn't, didn't eat. I missed him always, very terribly, I tried to be with him. Oh, how I tried but nothing seemed to work. Guess I was soo pathetic that even death didn't want me. The months became years. I knew I couldn't go on like this, I had to make a move. I thought hard and wide, I consulted friends and family. To be honest, some reached out, cause they were genuinely worried and others out of mere curiosity but most of them gave up after a few tries. They gave their opinions, I brought mine and together we tried to find a solution. I was advised to think about things I badly wanted to do with him, things that was bound to happen if not for his untimely 'sleep'. I didn't have to look far, standing in front of the mirror half-naked, I knew what I had to do. We never had sex. It was the one thing I was dying to do, just with him and he wanted to do things that made me happy, so he was more than willing to indulge in it. I had to act fast. I needed to do it, in order to help me move on. I knew it sounded childish and immature and I will probably regret it for the rest of my life but I was that desperate. So I decided, I was going to have sex. I called some trusted friends and after failing to talk me out of my reckless decision, promised to help. I was going to look for someone who would help me forget him, even though that person wouldn't be able to completely erase him from my mind, he would help numb the pain. I prayed my babe would understand cause there would no strings attached. I could do it right? Just someone who would break me.