Forever Blue

I never forget death.
I never forget the first time I dealt with death.

I was 9 when my mother rushed us to the hospital and made us walk through the corridor that felt endless. It was dark and cold, but her room was bright and warm. I thought she was just sleeping. My aunt walked in and almost fainted. My uncle walked in and almost fainted. I didn't get it. My mom told me that I should just wait outside, so I stood next to my cousin and asked her why she was crying. I still didn't get it.

Suddenly we were at my aunt's place and my maid had changed me from my sports attire to a baju kurong. Everyone was sad, really sad. I wanted to feel sad but I didn't have a reason to, well not yet. A van arrived and people in white uniform carried my grandma into my aunt's living room, and then to the bathroom. I waited by the door. When I turned my back, I saw my grandfather cried for the first time. He tried to catch his breath in between the sobs, while also trying to recite Surah Yaseen. I felt heavy.

The bathroom door opened and I saw her feet passed above me. For years I made myself believe that I saw them moved, and when my mother called us to salam and kiss my grandmother, I swore when I kissed her on her forehead I saw tears flowing down her cheeks, and that she was smiling. I hope she saw heaven. I hope she saw heaven. Her face was cold, her hand soft and she smelled of flowers.

The sobbing and crying got louder and louder until it was just pitch silence to my ears. I was watching the people as they covered my grandma, layer after layer until there was no more sights of her. My uncles and male cousins gathered around her casket and lifted it up...

I felt my first heartbreak at that very exact moment.

My mom stood behind me and wrapped her arms around my body. I was half her size then. Her tears dropped on to my head, and I just watched my grandma's casket being carried away slowly while everyone was gently putting their hands on it and continued to cry

Something took my breath away ...
And I finally understood.

My eyes started to swell, my ears were warm then my mother held me even tighter as I burst into tears. I somehow managed to untangle myself from my mom and ran towards her casket, and pat my small hand on the green and black fabric covering it. That was our last goodbye.That was what it felt like to lose the person you love.

It was just the beginning of my depression.
Years went on, but I replayed this moment like it was only yesterday. I saw how losing your one true love could tear you apart. My grandfather grew senile from that day until his last. All he wanted during his last moments was to go home. He kept insisting that someone was coming to get him, and that he had to go home. And once again, I became numb and only cried when I saw his casket left our front door.

No matter how many times I've seen death before me, the pain will never be the same. I'll be forever blue, forever wishing I'll see them again and say that I was sorry I never said much. Sorry I couldn't open my mouth to speak. Sorry I never told them I loved them. Sorry that I never thanked them for loving me as I am.