I Swear You Will Be Fine

I can’t remember exactly when the first time we prayed together was. As I have written before, I was not raised religious, so praying was quite a new experience for me. I had only started doing it with you. I think the first time we prayed together was because your mum was flying off the next day. You had told me that you would pray with her the night before her flights, and I asked if I could do it with you too. You quite excitedly said “Okay!” (I think you didn’t expect me to ask), and took my hands, told me to shut my eyes, and started praying. Since that day, we would pray together like that before all of your mum’s and sister’s flights, before my dad’s flights, before our exams, and sometimes before we fell asleep. These sessions would last about a minute, and I enjoyed them. I enjoyed hearing you speak so eloquently, and I enjoyed the feeling of peace whenever we did it.

The last night we hung out – the 17^th of December – you were at my house and left in the evening. I suggested walking you back for a change, and you agreed, until we were halfway to your place and the sky started going dark. You then said you’ll walk me back because it might be unsafe. I found that a little silly because we were just two minutes away from my house and I told you I could run back home, but you insisted. And I’m glad you did, because that gave us more minutes together. We happily walked back to my place, a little bounce in our step because of the extra time together. When we were a few houses away from mine, we stopped to say goodbye. I was dreading it because I knew I wouldn’t be seeing you for the longest time since we started dating. You had on a reassuring smile and told me that three weeks would fly by, that we would be able to text all the time, and possibly call every night too. Before we parted ways, we prayed again – held hands, closed our eyes, and prayed. You did all of the talking, as usual, but at the end I added, “And bless that Josh and I will be perfectly splendid and have lots of fun together when I’m back” and you laughed and agreed. As I was walking away, I turned back many times to wave and say goodbye. You stood where you always stand when you walk me home, with the same reassuring smile on your face. And I remember this part clearly: I turned back for the last time and said, “See you in three weeks!” and you said, “I’ll be here!” And I walked into my house.

Who would have known that that would be the last time. The last time praying with you, the last time seeing you physically, the last time hanging out together… So many last times that neither of us knew were the last. If we had known it would be the last day, I’m sure we would have done so many things differently. I’m sure I would never have let you out of my sight.

That fateful night, I texted you countless times before deciding to text your mum. I remember doubting myself, questioning whether I was overthinking and worrying over nothing, wondering if you were just so caught up gaming that you had missed my notifications. After I texted your mum, I kept hoping that you would reply so I could message her again and say, “Oops, sorry! He has replied. I was merely overreacting. Have a good night!” When no reply came, I went to the bathroom, worried sick, and did something I had never done without you – I prayed. I didn’t have the faintest clue how to, but I figured desperate times call for desperate measures, and I must be able to reach God even if I wasn’t using the right words or speaking as well as you do. I don’t know why, but I got on my knees, put my hands together, shut my eyes as hard as I could, and begun with “Dear God”. After I was done praying – begging is probably a more apt word – I checked my phone for your reply. But there was nothing. Then, shortly after, your mum’s call came.

I remember picking up the phone and thinking, “Please be okay. Please tell me someone stopped him and you’re having a talk with him or something.” The first few moments I knew something was wrong were when:

1. Your mum called. She wouldn’t call unless something bad had happened. But I was still holding out hope that maybe she stopped you and wanted to inform me that you had acted impulsively.
2.  I picked up and it was your sister’s voice. If everything was fine, your mum would be calling me, not your sister. But I was still holding out hope that she was calling me because your mum was sitting with you and she just wanted to inform me of what had been happening.
3.  She wouldn’t directly answer me if you were okay. I remember asking several times if you were okay, hoping to get a response that would ease my worries. But she wouldn’t answer me, she only repeatedly told me to sit with my parents (Thinking back, I always appreciated how kind she was to be so considerate in such terrifying moments). But I was still holding out hope that maybe you had acted impulsively and was in a hospital getting better. I kept holding out hope until the moment hope was snatched away.

Then, I heard three words. And I remember screaming. I remember thinking, “This must be a game. A simulation. Take me out. Take me out now.” I remember thinking I must be going crazy.

I try not to think back to that day and the days that followed. Oftentimes, when I do, I think about kneeling on the floor and praying. I questioned why that didn’t work, why this had to happen, how it could have happened. I questioned the existence of this almighty being who was supposed to protect us, protect you.

Now I only believe that you’re somewhere safe and happy, and that we will see you again – I have to believe in that. I can’t cope with the idea you were just taken from us and didn’t go anywhere, that we won’t get to be with you again. Some days, I still can’t believe this has happened at all. Most days, if not all, the missing gets too hard to bear.

You know I can’t wait to see you again, our three weeks just somehow got extended. I love you more, always, and forever.

Love always,
Sha