Forever loved, never forgotten.

After Shock. 14th December, 2007.

A thin layer of clouds cloaked the moon-star light sky. The story lay

clenched in my hands, tightly. Now, she lay in darkness and silence,

her memories covered, hidden in mud. Flashbacks and scrambled

thoughts, running through vast and barren pastures of my mind; she

left a scar a bit too concentrated, pulsating pain from within an

irreparable void. Her story; unraveling a serious of lachrymose events

of suffering, regret, hurt and love: all that that caused an immutable

destruction, the loss; a friend, gone.

As I saw her being assigned her new room, six feet under in a

cemetery, I remembered having sat with her on a bench in the

schoolyard, on a summer afternoon, she was smiling exuberantly,

garrulously telling me about a person who she called "My Stranger", of

his impeccable personality that captivated her reality then, how

expeditiously the person was becoming her purpose, how he made her

happy and complete. Not knowing then, that once her stranger would be made to

leave, she would find no other reason for survival, and would

eventually disintegrate into the ground.

From that day to this, lay two years of extreme abstracts; of passion,

hope, serenity turned to wretchedness, despair, a war that only

existed in her head. He became her life, everything that meant

anything was that person for whom she would give her world for, ironic

because she actually did. I remember, how the concrete walls of their

hand built fort, each fell, one by one, and shattered into tiny

granules of cement, dehiscing her world of perfection. Every

microscopic bit of the breaking fort, extracted life from her soul,

leaving nothing but a body.

I can still hear her call out to me; wailing, searching for answers

and reasons, she could not find and I, could not cater; for even the

things she wanted, needed most. Even though, I clasped her hands with

all my power, strength, might, I had to still watch her slip into the

dark pit, a massive black hole, an eternal abyss. There was nothing, I

could do to save her from her, to save her from her solitude, misery,

and abandonment, to shelter her from her doom.

She was a friend I loved, and failed. I tried my best and the thought

stabs me, which was that I was unable to make her believe in hope. In

her last few days, she spoke of magic without spells, spoke of love

that was immaculate, spoke of a never ending friendship; all to

manipulate me from trying harder, to deceive me into believing she was

getting better, when in fact, she was only being sucked acutely into

the incessant cavity. It makes me wonder if she always knew that, my

efforts, my ropes to grab her out of this would fall short or if, they

would break upon applying too much pressure, and that is why she became

unmindful to them, blind to my help.

The last time we spoke was the day before her demise, 13th December,

2007. She masked her thoughts and feelings, in pseudo cheerfulness and contentment. Once again, fooling me, as if she had done many times before.

She said in her dainty voice, 'How you seen the sky at night, when all the stars are shining their best? It looks as if diamonds have been

scattered on a long, black, velvet veil. When I look at the sky, at

night, it makes me feel satisfied, and the moon reflects comfort

from its radiating light. It makes me think that distances are not

that wide, because no matter where we are we will all be under the

same sky.'

I stand here, knowing that she at times spoke of life, even though; 

she had died a long time ago. She had died when the stranger had let

go of the remaining pieces, because her denial was her hope; and there

was nothing to deny, after the stranger gave her back, the remnants

that she believed would fix their relationship. She was right, the

immeasurable expansion of space was comforting but at the same time, she lied. On this night, and the nights to come ahead in the future, only one of us would be covered under the veil of black; while she would turn back into the clay she was made of.

To all those people at her funeral, she was a person, a teenage

tragedy; to me she was a misunderstood facade, painted black. She was

a disguise, behind a sheet of protection too thin, wrapped tightly,

almost too much so, in her cocoon. She had been afraid and uneasy

about letting people in, even me; the only one to enter the delicate

folds and wander into the darkness, unquestionably, was the Stranger.

Observing her disguise now, broken and gone, an eggshell stepped upon

far too many times, I did not see the face of a friend, but the hollow

remnant of where she was once complete, where her soul and her

beautiful mind grew and was nourished, before it flew away, wings

bent, on an expedition to the seven skies. She was the author of her

own story, a friend of the world's, but her own enemy, the griever and

the grieved. Looking up at the starlit sky, my eyes brimmed with tears

but her memories contained them within. Her spirit had left me alone,

but it had removed all the telltale traces of guilt. I had tried. I

had tried until my nerves were frayed, my energy spent, my joy

depleted. But now, she had left me in a world that was serene, so

serene that I embraced it with arms open and headlight. That was when

I knew that the chains she was strained by had broken and she had

found eternal solace. So had I. Now, she is gone, a friend, a lover

and now an angel.

Forever loved, never forgotten.