Story -

Eternal Eclipse

Eternal Eclipse

Sometimes you’re simply not ready to let go. Sometimes you’re not ready to move on even when you seem like it.

************

Here we go again.. Back to night shit thoughts I guess.
Here I find myself remembering out of a sudden, remembering a whole lots of pain. Is remembering even the right word to use when you never forgot. F**k people’s pain and what they think pain is. I respect those who feel true pain and know what it is and how it feels like. I loathe those who think they know what pain feels like when they only experienced shitty feelings, do these people really think that a partner leaving you or a friend betraying you is true pain?Ā 

I guess they do, I don’t, but isn’t everything relative? I, myself thought at a certain point that I did experience what true pain is, when in a matter of fact I was only experiencing a small glimpse of it. I, myself was hurt by death, by betrayal, by suspecting the closest ones to me and only god knows whether my doubts are true or not. I don’t care about ā€œsome conjecture is unrighteousnessā€. I think that you need to be doubtful in order to figure things out.

Here I am remembering what it felt like 3 months and 29 days ago to receive such shocking news. The phone ringing at 11pm, after a long day of preparing for an event that’ll be held next day, an event that we worked on since summer till February, at 11pm to receive the news of your death. You, who I’ve heard her voice less than 3 days ago. You, who I’ve not seen for a while, and why is that? Because I f***ing didn’t consider this happening. Running down the streets at midnight not knowing what to do, feeling as if you are a complete stranger in this dark place that you’ve spent 2 years in, with only your father’s voice delivering such shocking news. Hitting your hands against an electricity poll as if that’s going to take the pain away or relieve you. Being on the road for the next 4 hours with only your face and my father’s on my mind. Thinking about what is expecting me and what awaits me there when I reach my destination. Oh I know quite well the answer. Pain and sorrow awaits me.

Reaching the house where you had your final calm breaths before leaving us for a better place hopefully. Reaching the house where my father awaits near the door, the door that lets me into a dark place that has you, that contains you. Here you are at last. Here you are laying down on the ground, the cold harsh ground. Ever wondered why I sometimes seem as if I’m too emotional whether it comes to happiness or sadness or whatever? But when it comes to such occasions, I do show my emotions but not quite much of them. I do want to let all my emotions out, I do want them to manifest and be gone through my eyes or mouth, depending on the occasion. They always say it is up to a wedding, a funeral or such things to gather the whole family out there. And so did this heartbreaking occasion. Sitting there in that room with no words to be spoken, and no will to listen to anything, but still I do. Staring and gazing at all of them like I’m still lost, like I’m still afraid of this truth. Sunrise is such a breathtaking phenomenon that we appreciate it and its calmness, but believe me you were way more breathtaking and way calmer at that moment. Filled with regret knowing that it certainly won’t help even a bit, but not wanting to think of anything else.

It is time. It is time for me to have a final look at your cold white face. Taking off that quilt and having a look at you. Kissing your forehead not just once, but a couple and a dozen of times knowing that they’ll be washed away. Couldn’t think of anything else to do, but still I had hundreds and thousands of words and things to say. When death comes, you start seeing things you didn’t see before, you start remembering, experiencing and feeling things and stuff you didn’t before. But at the same time I don’t think that death opens your eyes. Based on what I already said, it feels like it does but it doesn’t. It only closes your eyes at that specific moment and then it gives you thousands of scenarios to only fuck up your mind. People will come and tell you that this is life, this was meant to happen eventually and that we’ll all die one day. Like hell I already know that. What if I don’t want to live that life? What if I don’t want to forget like all of you? What if I’m not interested in moving on? What if.. What if..?

I wrote you something, I wrote you something just 4 days after your departure. The struggle to whether leave this for my own or to share it with you was really tough.Ā 
ā€œWhy so cruel? When you think that you have everything under control and everything planned, life never fails to surprise you.

I just spoke to you days before I received the shocking news. I just heard your voice with no single clue that it is the last time I hear it. After nearly 2 years in this place, it is the first time that I feel as a stranger and surrounded by strangers. Running around not knowing what to do, still under shock, still not believing what you just heard in the middle of the night. I don’t know what hurt more, the shocking news or my father’s voice when delivering it.

Few hours later and I’m here, facing my father, knowing that after I finish hugging him, I’ll have to enter the house to face you. To face you after not seeing you for almost 5 months. That’s the part that hurts the most. Seeing you there laying down and sleeping refreshed my mind and got me thinking about lots of stuff.

You re-united all of us even if that’s for one or two days.

Why do I have to hide my tears even though everyone else is crying? They will get out eventually and who’ll be there to wipe up those tears of mine. I had to see your face one last time, the pictures I have aren’t enough.ā€

One month later, when I thought I was ready to pay a visit things turned out to be the opposite.
People telling they don’t want to live here anymore for various reasons, for various stupid reasons. Mine may and may not differ from theirs. This is my first visit, is visit even the right word to use when you’re in your hometown? It is my first return here since that day, and how painful this return is knowing that my dad won’t keep on telling me to go pay you a visit. This time I’ll be the one rushing to pay that beautiful soul of yours a visit. I’ll be the one laying down on your grave, bowing to kiss the stone that is separating my lips from your forehead. Your forehead that is the last thing I kissed in you that dark morning.
Who would’ve thought that passing near your house could be this painful.Ā 
I loathe my lying hands that wrote in Loathe ā€œA tear drop, drops down the pain.ā€ The only things that have dropped are my trembling knees along with lots of morale and attitudes.Ā 

Here I am back to this small town with its big hearted citizens. It’s not like it’s the first time that I leave and come back. This became a routine. But it’s considered a first that I feel and witness such feelings and emotions in this snowy cold city.

This so called malicious and infectious city. This space, this area that is loved but still hated by same figurines. I had my reasons for hesitating whether to comeback or not. Whether I’m ready or not. My mind ended up on deciding to pay a visit in order to let go…

************

As beautiful as the horizons. As far as the horizons, but horizons are never far.
And it’s never the time to say goodbye, never.
عيدك في الجنة خير <3

1930 -Ā āˆž
Ā 

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Comments

author
Julie Annette King

The worse pain cannot been seen... we suffer in silence within our emptiness.
Thoroughly enjoyed reading this.Ā 

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author
Sakr Saadi

Indeed my friend..Ā 
Thank you I'm glad you did.

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