12 years on

I waited for you in your room at the hospital. The walls were white, whiter than I had ever seen the walls in a greek hospital. Your bed was made and there was a bright light coming in from your window. I was nervous, I didn’t know what I was going to say to you. What you were going to say to me.

A nurse dressed in white showed you in the room and, as quietly as she had come, left. You were dressed in a white hospital gown and glowing. Your thick black hair was shining and you looked happy.

I came to you and you came to me. You took both my hands and squeezed them against your heart. My mouth was dry.

“How are you?”, I asked.

“I am very well”, you answered and smiled. Your eyes were looking deep in mine, as if to make sure I’d remember that look for ever.

“Are you happy, then?” I asked. “I am not in pain, and yes, I am happy I think”, you answered.

“So, what’s going to happen now?” I asked.

“Nothing different”, you said. “This doesn’t change anything”.

I tried to be sad, but couldn’t. There was a huge amount of peace and tranquility coming from you, from the light, and it flooded my insides. I could feel it floating in my stomach, in my lungs, in my head. I looked at you and squeezed your hands with my hands, that were still against your heart. “You will not forget me. Ever”, I said. You laughed. “Really, I couldn’t. You either, though”.

I wouldn’t want to. How could I ever?

“You don’t look sick at all”, I said. “How can you die?”

“I am not sick anymore”, you said. “This is only for us. To say goodbye”

We stood in silence, devouring each other’s presence for a while.

“I have to go”, you said.

“I will always love you” I said.

“I know. I will always love you too”, you said.

We hugged and I can still feel that hug to this day. It was the last time we touched.

You opened the door and left. That was the last time I saw you. My brother. My angel. My friend.