The Heart that Failed Us

We knew each other before birth. Our parents were best friends through college and they were inseparable. Growing up with a best friend is what dreams are made of. We knew that we would forever be friends, that nothing could separate us. We were wrong.

Looking back, I could have seen the signs. Maybe if only I had been paying attention better, it could have been caught sooner. Something could have been done. And he would be here. I was so stupid and oblivious.

Looking through photo albums of our escapades, and of our smiling faces, each page unlocks memories from deep in my brain. I turn each page hoping to relive the sweet and sour memories within the pages. I look for one in particular, the one of the two of us holding large rocks while we beam at the camera. His skin is pale, and his eyes are dark and heavy compared to my bright ones. This picture shows one of the last moments in time where life was normal. One of the last times outside of the hospital.

It was a few weeks after the last big rainfall and the ground was still soggy. We had been running along the river’s edge. The water was dangerously high, much higher than usual but we were careful. We chased birds, looked for frogs, and just ran with the cold air cutting our faces. We discovered a sandy beach with large flat rocks along the edges. We stacked them to the sky and beyond, just as high as our hopes and dreams. Then just like our hopes and dreams, each tower faltered and came crashing down. We stopped midway so that he could catch his breath, and we took a quick picture. Later, he handed me a beautiful feather he’d found in his foragings. The feather that I had framed and now hangs on my wall in my room to this day. I had no idea that this would be his final gift to me, a bald eagle feather. Minutes later, he just collapsed. The scream that pierced through the air will forever haunt me. The scream that had crawled its way out of my throat.

He would live out his days in a cold, sterile bed in the hospital. My best friend, who had been so full of life. My best friend who now was colorless, with blue lips and cold hands. My best friend who I willed to open his eyes.

I spent my time by his side, making sure he got all the high school drama and the he said/she said crap. Day after day hoping that when he woke up and left the bed, he would not have missed a thing. Holding out hope and praying he would just open his eyes.

Hope is a strange reassurance, because it is almost like trying to gaslight yourself for what you want. It is never accurate though. It will break your heart into millions of pieces as many times as possible when nothing happens. When nothing happens day after day, again and again.

It’s raining again. Hard. It was as though it was going to flood again but I didn’t mind it. Walking in the rain I am able to think when everything else is washed away. As the world around me began to be washed clean, I began to realize how much I truly needed him, and loved him. Not friendship love, but something more. I didn’t know if I could continue on without him. His body is failing and there is nothing I can do. I am trying to convince myself that I will be okay if he chooses to leave. Leave me. I am working up the courage to tell him that I am okay with whatever he chooses. I am not, but I will be okay as long as he is happy.

By the time I reached the hospital, water ran down my body, soaked from head to toe. I made the decision to tell him it’s okay what he chooses, I was ready. Once in the room, I started with my usual routine of telling him all the drama, and reminding him of our misadventures. Holding his hand, I felt a weak shift in the movements, then he pulled me in slowly. I was frozen in place, not actually expecting him to come out of his coma so suddenly. When my ear finally made it to his mouth, he whispered to me the one thing that I wish he would have said sooner.

“I love you”.

Tears streamed down my face as my voice broke with each word I whispered back. ‘I love you, and it’s okay for you to go’. My heart broke with each one of his slowing breaths, finally shattering with his last gasp. His grip fell as his body relaxed into his final journey.

I was the one who had to walk out and tell his parents that their 15 year old was gone. Forever. Their child that had been full of life and running only two weeks earlier would never run again. The lanky boy that told me he loved me with his final words. The one they will only wish they could see one more time. He’s gone, his heart which we thought would beat forever had betrayed all of us and robbed us all.

I love you.