lost letters : 004
23 April 2016
Dear Lola Mercy,
I swear that I am absolutely terrible at keeping up with these. It’s literally almost been a year since I’ve written something like this. I don’t know why I find it so difficult writing so intimately to people even if I never actually send these words to them, and obviously to you. Bizarre.
Any ways, It’s been almost 8 years since I last saw you. 8 years this coming May, precisely. It was hard when you left, you know. I don’t think it was hard for you, and I’m happy for that, but I was too young really to grasp what had happened and what that would mean. It’s only recently that I’ve come to understand all the things that I lost when you left. I honestly miss you so dearly and want you so badly to come back even just for a day if that’s even possible.
I was in 6th grade. I don’t actually remember much of that year, but the time when you left I still somewhat remember.
The night before, I remember that mom and dad got a call in the evening that something wasn’t going right, that you had been coughing up blood, I think. I remember I was in the hallway when mom came out from somewhere with a facial expression still petrified from the phone call. I became petrified too. I think I went up to hug her. Mom and dad left soon after to go to see you in the hospital. I couldn’t. I was too young to go inside the hospital rooms. I just went to bed because that was the only thing I could do. I hobbled back to my bed, and spent a good deal praying that I would still be able to see you later that week.
I woke up without difficulty. I climbed down from the top bunk and somewhat hastedly scurried out to the living room to see if any one was up so that they could tell me what happened last night. And they were, and it even appeared like they had been waiting for us (my sister and I). I woke up first.
I’m not sure who told me exactly. My memory of that moment is now foggy, but all I can remember is that mom still had the same face as the night before when they told the news to me. I was crying. I clutched on to mom with a great deal of force. That had been the first time I felt that sort of sadness.