The following morning, he sent me one of the songs we had been listening to when getting drunk the previous night.
” Whenever I listen to this song from today onwards, it’s always going to remind me of last night’s good memories. ” It read in text.
And I didn’t know if to be happy or angry.
For me that song would always remind me of my insensitivity.
The dreaded call came when I was already intoxicated from the liqour we had been drinking all night, but I remember exactly the words and the tone in the call.
“Hey, hello.” I answered excitedly.
“Hi. ” the caller on the other end answered in hesitation.
“How are you?” I asked unsure.
There was silence for about 2 or 3 seconds then the caller answered, “Not okay, she’s gone.”
” Oh no. I am so sorry. ” I replied.
I hung up and sighed but did not have words to utter. It had not yet registered in my mind, the magnitude of her death.
And I took a sip of my drink. I drank so much and slept so deeply I dreamt I had died. When I woke up the following morning still breathing, I felt nothing but guilt.
Guilt that I had continued to drink. Guilt that I did not know how to react the previous night.
And when I drew the curtain that morning and saw everyone else going about their business, I felt pain in my soul and broke down.
I hated how life just really went on like nothing had changed. Life still chimed in other people’s worlds and life hurt more than death.