Sweets America
12-02-2007, 08:11 PM
I wanted you to know
In memory of Mabrouck
Time was flying by. December was there already.
The train journey would be long but each mile would bring her closer to him. She could barely stand the distance at the moment. She had not seen him for...she did not remember exactly. It was the effect of time on her, each minute drowning in blurriness as soon as it belonged to the past. Another reason why she did not remember their last encounter was because he was constantly there, next to her, like a ghost or a spiritual guide. They had always had this kind of mysterious bond that lovers sometimes share or that mothers have with their children. Something private. She did not see herself as being his mother though. His wisdom went far beyond hers, to extents that she could barely understand sometimes, and she secretly cherished the idea that he represented some kind of father figure to her. She had learnt so much from him already, but the lessons were coming to an end. It was time to look back at all those years, half-hidden behind an irrepressible veil of tears. She hoped that he would give her some last advice. Something valuable that she would cling to in order to keep her head above water.
The world was getting darker with each minute spent in the train. The landscapes were barely visible, but it was a comfort to try and distinguish them in the dark. The light illuminating the inside of the car impeded her to really see anything but reflections through the window. She saw the image of a young girl on the seat next to her and wondered for how long that person had been sat there; she had not noticed her presence before.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden but familiar ache in the depths of her belly. She was starting to get used to the anxiety and dreadful pain which seemed to take pleasure in tearing her guts apart. It had reached the point when she had real trouble to go to sleep at night. It had started some nights ago: a very strange and unpleasant feeling had invaded her body and mind. Something had felt wrong. Really wrong. And it had been about him. She had just known it, it had been as obvious as the love she had for him. The pain in her stomach felt sharper at that thought. He was definitely going to die. Maybe sooner than she expected.
The three middle-aged women occupying the seats in front of her were laughing out loud about an unclear subject. Leaning against the window, she thought of how surprising it was that two drastically opposed emotions could cohabit in such a confined atmosphere. Sometimes when you paid attention, you could see surprising things. It was just life. Sometimes, life was surprising. He had surprised her, too, and more than once. Just like on that day, when she was still a little girl, and they had decided to go out together. They had chosen to go to the river, because knowing that it made him happy just rejoiced her. He had always loved jumping into the water, swimming for a moment, maybe playing with a stick that he would always bring back to you, no matter how far away you threw it. However, she had never really liked throwing the stick too far in the water, for fear that he would drown. That seemed quite unlikely to happen, but she didn’t like taking any risk. Although he was her protector in many ways, she had always felt the need to reverse the roles and give him back some protection too. Even more since he had grown older. But, he was still young at the time... She had felt his excitement as they had approached the river. In the water, kids were swimming, having fun and yelling their joy. Suddenly, she had seen his ears slightly move, the leash had gone loose, and he had stopped dead. Only for two seconds, though, because immediately after, taking the yellings for what they were not, he had rushed towards the river, jumped into it, swum in the direction of one of the little kids and brought him back to the bank, delicately holding the tiny arm between his fangs. The little boy had had wide-open eyes full of a mix of fear and wonder. It had gone so fast that he had had no time to realize what had happened. She knew the feeling. She knew it so well now.
The man sat on the left side of the car turned a new page of his newspapers. He looked quite imposing, had a bushy beard and wore a suit which appeared to be rather tight around his belly. He made her think of some kind of teacher. In physics, maybe. Her dying friend was a different kind of teacher. He certainly knew nothing about physics, had no PhD, and sometimes had no idea about what could seem logical to people. Once, he had innocently sniffed an electric wire with the tip of his nose. Needless to say he had howled real loud before running away, far away, his high-pitched voice echoing around. Trying to catch up on him would have proven to be useless, so she had waited for some minutes, a little anxious, and he had finally come back, walking slowly, visibly shocked. She had reassured him with words and tenderness, and he had never touched any other kind of wire, electric or not.
Her mother had told her that he walked at a slow pace those days too. He could not run anymore, for his joints ached too much. He had lost the excitement of his youth and was dragging his body around, as though he were searching for something without exactly knowing what. The last time she had seen him, whenever it had been, she had found him depressed already. But she had not been that alarmed. Today she was. Her mother’s phone call of the day before had confirmed the truth of the anxiety she had felt at nights. He was in a bad state. He had called her too, somehow, in his own way. Yes, he had no PhD, but this communication of the mind was one example of the things he knew how to do, and that she still found amazing. He had taught her those kinds of things. He had taught her how to love unconditionally, he had taught her the concept of loyalty, and he had emphasized how one could communicate the deepest feelings only through the eyes. She was not sure she would ever have the ability to approach the purity of his soul. She was only human, after all.
The train reached her hometown. She met her mother in the station. They shared a silent hug and headed to the car. On the road back home, they talked about him, of course. Her mother told her that he was getting weaker and weaker as days passed.
She was mentally rehearsing everything she wanted him to know before he passed away. She wanted to spend those days next to him and give him back some of the comfort he had communicated to her. But, it was going to be the most difficult thing she would have to do in her life, she knew it already. She would need to use a great part of the courage he had inspired to her. At her place, he would surely have been able to handle it. He could handle so much.
He had been satisfied with his life, she knew it, but she regretted all the time she had spent away from him. He had understood though, that she had to live her own life. This had been the meaning of everything he had taught her.
She could not help thinking that she was not ready for that. Not yet. She selfishly thought that she just could not let him go. They had not had enough time together. It was too early for her to be by herself, she needed his reassuring paw in her hand. She wanted to tell him not to leave. Not yet. But she knew it was part of those unavoidable events of life. Life itself would leave his body, that was all. Life would abandon his body, and he would abandon her. Those things just happened. She wondered if he knew he was going to die. Of course he knew. She felt a wave of sorrow brush her hopes away. What an emptiness that would be when he would die! She had so many things to tell him before! She felt scared of forgetting something important. She knew she was prone to forgetting important matters when she had to think quickly.
The idea of death was getting engraved in her mind. She could even smell it. It was so acrid, so overwhelming already. The air she was breathing was contaminated. Soon, he would die, they would bring him to the veterinarian and put him into some kind of freezer with other dead animals, erasing his identity. He would be stored there, just like her mother stored meat in her freezer, inside of those plastic bags. He would be reduced to flesh, his greasy fur sticking to the greasy fur of some other dead thing. His body would become as hard as rock, and she thought of the cracking sound it would make if one tried to bend one of his paws just for fun. It all sounded so wrong, so obscene. He would not be cold for long, however, because soon after, he would be cremated. With no respect, no ceremony, no acknowledgement of what he was worth. Hands of total strangers would touch his frozen fur. Those strangers would not care about him, they would have no idea of what a special dog he had been, of the fact that he had saved her life many times with a mere lick on her hand, making her understand that it would be alright in the end. But it was not. It was certainly not. It would never be. Being an orphan could not be alright.
The strangers would not know any of those things, though. He would just be a corpse among others to them. Then he would become ashes, and she had no idea of where those ashes would disappear. She found that thought unbearable. It went beyond the limits of what she could tolerate. This beloved friend who had been there was just going to vanish, just like rabbits did in those magic tricks. The rabbits always reappeared though. Everything was alright in the end for the rabbits.
She wanted to bite something with rage when she thought that strangers were going to be the last persons to touch him with their filthy hands. They would not know about his kindness, the freedom of his love, the laughters they had had together, rolling in the grass in past summer days when it seemed that death would never be part of the picture. The summer days were becoming frozen images of another time.
She thought that she would ansolutely have to remind him of those happy moments when she would be back home. They would bring them back to life together. She wanted him to know about that happiness he had given her. This would be the first thing she would tell him. It would certainly comfort him and at least, he would pass away surrounded with tenderness. She would be next to him all the time. This was the logical way things would happen.
The car stopped. They had arrived, finally. She rushed to the basement and opened the door. He was there.
Eyes wide-open, peering at some distant place, beyond her.
Silent;
Immobile;
Stiff.
She collapsed.
Sometimes life was surprising. He had surprised her, too, and more than once.
In memory of Mabrouck
Time was flying by. December was there already.
The train journey would be long but each mile would bring her closer to him. She could barely stand the distance at the moment. She had not seen him for...she did not remember exactly. It was the effect of time on her, each minute drowning in blurriness as soon as it belonged to the past. Another reason why she did not remember their last encounter was because he was constantly there, next to her, like a ghost or a spiritual guide. They had always had this kind of mysterious bond that lovers sometimes share or that mothers have with their children. Something private. She did not see herself as being his mother though. His wisdom went far beyond hers, to extents that she could barely understand sometimes, and she secretly cherished the idea that he represented some kind of father figure to her. She had learnt so much from him already, but the lessons were coming to an end. It was time to look back at all those years, half-hidden behind an irrepressible veil of tears. She hoped that he would give her some last advice. Something valuable that she would cling to in order to keep her head above water.
The world was getting darker with each minute spent in the train. The landscapes were barely visible, but it was a comfort to try and distinguish them in the dark. The light illuminating the inside of the car impeded her to really see anything but reflections through the window. She saw the image of a young girl on the seat next to her and wondered for how long that person had been sat there; she had not noticed her presence before.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden but familiar ache in the depths of her belly. She was starting to get used to the anxiety and dreadful pain which seemed to take pleasure in tearing her guts apart. It had reached the point when she had real trouble to go to sleep at night. It had started some nights ago: a very strange and unpleasant feeling had invaded her body and mind. Something had felt wrong. Really wrong. And it had been about him. She had just known it, it had been as obvious as the love she had for him. The pain in her stomach felt sharper at that thought. He was definitely going to die. Maybe sooner than she expected.
The three middle-aged women occupying the seats in front of her were laughing out loud about an unclear subject. Leaning against the window, she thought of how surprising it was that two drastically opposed emotions could cohabit in such a confined atmosphere. Sometimes when you paid attention, you could see surprising things. It was just life. Sometimes, life was surprising. He had surprised her, too, and more than once. Just like on that day, when she was still a little girl, and they had decided to go out together. They had chosen to go to the river, because knowing that it made him happy just rejoiced her. He had always loved jumping into the water, swimming for a moment, maybe playing with a stick that he would always bring back to you, no matter how far away you threw it. However, she had never really liked throwing the stick too far in the water, for fear that he would drown. That seemed quite unlikely to happen, but she didn’t like taking any risk. Although he was her protector in many ways, she had always felt the need to reverse the roles and give him back some protection too. Even more since he had grown older. But, he was still young at the time... She had felt his excitement as they had approached the river. In the water, kids were swimming, having fun and yelling their joy. Suddenly, she had seen his ears slightly move, the leash had gone loose, and he had stopped dead. Only for two seconds, though, because immediately after, taking the yellings for what they were not, he had rushed towards the river, jumped into it, swum in the direction of one of the little kids and brought him back to the bank, delicately holding the tiny arm between his fangs. The little boy had had wide-open eyes full of a mix of fear and wonder. It had gone so fast that he had had no time to realize what had happened. She knew the feeling. She knew it so well now.
The man sat on the left side of the car turned a new page of his newspapers. He looked quite imposing, had a bushy beard and wore a suit which appeared to be rather tight around his belly. He made her think of some kind of teacher. In physics, maybe. Her dying friend was a different kind of teacher. He certainly knew nothing about physics, had no PhD, and sometimes had no idea about what could seem logical to people. Once, he had innocently sniffed an electric wire with the tip of his nose. Needless to say he had howled real loud before running away, far away, his high-pitched voice echoing around. Trying to catch up on him would have proven to be useless, so she had waited for some minutes, a little anxious, and he had finally come back, walking slowly, visibly shocked. She had reassured him with words and tenderness, and he had never touched any other kind of wire, electric or not.
Her mother had told her that he walked at a slow pace those days too. He could not run anymore, for his joints ached too much. He had lost the excitement of his youth and was dragging his body around, as though he were searching for something without exactly knowing what. The last time she had seen him, whenever it had been, she had found him depressed already. But she had not been that alarmed. Today she was. Her mother’s phone call of the day before had confirmed the truth of the anxiety she had felt at nights. He was in a bad state. He had called her too, somehow, in his own way. Yes, he had no PhD, but this communication of the mind was one example of the things he knew how to do, and that she still found amazing. He had taught her those kinds of things. He had taught her how to love unconditionally, he had taught her the concept of loyalty, and he had emphasized how one could communicate the deepest feelings only through the eyes. She was not sure she would ever have the ability to approach the purity of his soul. She was only human, after all.
The train reached her hometown. She met her mother in the station. They shared a silent hug and headed to the car. On the road back home, they talked about him, of course. Her mother told her that he was getting weaker and weaker as days passed.
She was mentally rehearsing everything she wanted him to know before he passed away. She wanted to spend those days next to him and give him back some of the comfort he had communicated to her. But, it was going to be the most difficult thing she would have to do in her life, she knew it already. She would need to use a great part of the courage he had inspired to her. At her place, he would surely have been able to handle it. He could handle so much.
He had been satisfied with his life, she knew it, but she regretted all the time she had spent away from him. He had understood though, that she had to live her own life. This had been the meaning of everything he had taught her.
She could not help thinking that she was not ready for that. Not yet. She selfishly thought that she just could not let him go. They had not had enough time together. It was too early for her to be by herself, she needed his reassuring paw in her hand. She wanted to tell him not to leave. Not yet. But she knew it was part of those unavoidable events of life. Life itself would leave his body, that was all. Life would abandon his body, and he would abandon her. Those things just happened. She wondered if he knew he was going to die. Of course he knew. She felt a wave of sorrow brush her hopes away. What an emptiness that would be when he would die! She had so many things to tell him before! She felt scared of forgetting something important. She knew she was prone to forgetting important matters when she had to think quickly.
The idea of death was getting engraved in her mind. She could even smell it. It was so acrid, so overwhelming already. The air she was breathing was contaminated. Soon, he would die, they would bring him to the veterinarian and put him into some kind of freezer with other dead animals, erasing his identity. He would be stored there, just like her mother stored meat in her freezer, inside of those plastic bags. He would be reduced to flesh, his greasy fur sticking to the greasy fur of some other dead thing. His body would become as hard as rock, and she thought of the cracking sound it would make if one tried to bend one of his paws just for fun. It all sounded so wrong, so obscene. He would not be cold for long, however, because soon after, he would be cremated. With no respect, no ceremony, no acknowledgement of what he was worth. Hands of total strangers would touch his frozen fur. Those strangers would not care about him, they would have no idea of what a special dog he had been, of the fact that he had saved her life many times with a mere lick on her hand, making her understand that it would be alright in the end. But it was not. It was certainly not. It would never be. Being an orphan could not be alright.
The strangers would not know any of those things, though. He would just be a corpse among others to them. Then he would become ashes, and she had no idea of where those ashes would disappear. She found that thought unbearable. It went beyond the limits of what she could tolerate. This beloved friend who had been there was just going to vanish, just like rabbits did in those magic tricks. The rabbits always reappeared though. Everything was alright in the end for the rabbits.
She wanted to bite something with rage when she thought that strangers were going to be the last persons to touch him with their filthy hands. They would not know about his kindness, the freedom of his love, the laughters they had had together, rolling in the grass in past summer days when it seemed that death would never be part of the picture. The summer days were becoming frozen images of another time.
She thought that she would ansolutely have to remind him of those happy moments when she would be back home. They would bring them back to life together. She wanted him to know about that happiness he had given her. This would be the first thing she would tell him. It would certainly comfort him and at least, he would pass away surrounded with tenderness. She would be next to him all the time. This was the logical way things would happen.
The car stopped. They had arrived, finally. She rushed to the basement and opened the door. He was there.
Eyes wide-open, peering at some distant place, beyond her.
Silent;
Immobile;
Stiff.
She collapsed.
Sometimes life was surprising. He had surprised her, too, and more than once.