The horizon raised and lowered with each breath. She lifted her head off her friend’s chest and looked deep into her eyes.
“I love you.”
The other woman didn't respond, not verbally. Her bright eyes and exhausted smile said it all.
The woman returned her head to its previous spot to listen once again to the thud thud of the beloved heartbeat. She focused on the sound and ignored the clicking of the machine that pumped pain medication directly into the weak body.
Very little was spoken. It was as if all the important things they needed to say where encapsulated in those three words.
Her soul was slipping out of her body and the friends parted knowing that this was the last time they would see each other.
Goodbye.
It seemed so strange to say it. How many times had she said it so easily to friends and family? Now it stuck in her throat. The word seemed too small.
She drove home not paying attention to anything but the memory of the heartbeat. She didn't cry that day or the following day when she received the call to announce the death of her friend.
At the funeral, many old acquaintances seemed surprised and somewhat hurt that she wasn't crying her eyes out like the dutiful best friend. But she had mourned, years ago when the cancer had been detected. When she sobbed curled up on her bed with her husband unsure of how to comfort her and so just ended up simply holding her.
So instead of grieving that day, the best friend remembered and celebrated her friend. How she took soup to those who were sick, how she visited the elderly at nursing homes singing horribly off-key tunes to the delight of the residence, and was worried about her dear friend’s minor health problems while she in turn was succumbing to her own sickness.
The first visit to the graveyard was the burial and the second a few weeks later to put some flowers on the grave. Each time was rather strange. No sadness or sorrow. Just a reminder that she wasn't around.
It wasn't until a few years later, while in a movie theater that she cried and cried being unable to stop. She cried in the car and all the way home. She couldn't understand why she was crying now. It wasn't like the deep grief she felt on being told her good friend had cancer. It felt more like a gate had opened and the heartache was surging out. It wasn't painful really, more like the twinge you experience when cleaning a healing wound.
It wasn't a magical experience. It didn't propel her in some new direction or cause her to drastically change how she treated her loved ones. No great epiphany to share with the world. It was simply her way of grieving.
Written by Shawn Du
