Regret

He wished for that day to come as fast as possible. The day of his 20th birthday. The day that would, officially, mark the change from teenager, from kid, to adult, to man. Now, he regrets the day came at all.

He lived with his mother, his step-father and his grandmother, all of whom he loves dearly. But there was a special place in his heart for his grandmother, not that he would admit it nor tell anyone about it. He didn't do it out of spite nor hate, but out of embarrassment. In that sense, he was, and is, still a kid. And he regrets it.

The three of them had lived together for a long time. It wasn't always like that, though. His step-father started living with him when he was 8, and when he was 15 his grandfather died. He felt that loss, but his grandfather had been ill (Parkinson, heart issues, etc.) most of his life, and spent the last years of it bedridden. They didn't talk much, so when he died he grieved, of course, but just a little. To him, it was almost a stranger. However, his grandma did grieve. She lost her beautiful smile, her cheerfulness. Even so, she still did all she could to make the life of her family easier, even in exchange of her own health. No one noticed, or it would be more correct to say pretended not to notice. Life was easier that way. They didn't do it out of hate nor spite, but out of simple, human laziness. And now they all regret forcing her to deal with heavy chores instead of helping her out more.

She started growing sickly. She lost appetite. Started losing hair. Her mind became weak and fragile. Her weight decreased. And even so, she kept going, for her grandson was all she needed. The kid knew how much she loved him, and he loved her, but rarely showed it. Not because he didn't love her, but because it simply was too tiring, or so he thought. Now, he regrets all the kisses he didn't give her, all the hugs he lost the chance to receive, all the things he doesn't know, because he was always too busy to spend an afternoon talking to her.

The last year had been especially hard on her. Her weight fell down to a lot less than it should be. Her mind wandered, astray, and rarely was focused on the moment she lived in. She often fell, for her legs became unable to stand up properly. Even so, she still kept smiling whenever she saw her family, especially her grandson, whom he dearly loved. The kid feared for her life, and knew she was nearing her death. Even so, he chose to leave those thoughts in the back of his mind, for it was easier to ignore them than to confront them. Would anything have changed if he had faced it? He doesn't now, and he regrets it.

The boy was excited when the day of his birthday finally came. He was a bit worried because her grandmother hadn't been very well the day before, but nothing could go wrong in his special day, or so he thought. Wishful thoughts, the thoughts of a kid. That day, his grandmother didn't wake up. Her breathing was labored, and she was unconscious. The family feared the worst, and tried to wake her up. All of the attempts failed, but one: the family carried the birthday cake to her bedroom, where she was laying down, lit the candles and sang happy birthday. The kid saw her open her eyes, look as he made his wish and, when he finished, close them again. Tears streaming down his face, the boy had made his wish. But he didn't live in a fairytale, and his wish, which actually was a prayer, went unanswered.

The family, fearing the worst, called a doctor. When he came, he confirmed what everyone knew but didn't want to hear: she was dying, and had only a few hours remaining. The door closing as the doctor left was the only sound that managed to break through the sound of their grief.

The boy couldn't believe that a part of his life was just going to disappear. This time the sadness overcame the embarrasement, and he cried like never before. Hours passed, and his grandma still kept on hanging onto life. The boy, in a selfish moment, thought that he didn't want this to happen because then the day his grandma died would be the same as his birthday, and he wouldn't be able to have another happy birthday again. It is ironic that this was the wish, the prayer, the thought, that actually happened. A part of him regrets it, but not as deeply as other things.

One day passed, and all the family was by the side of his grandmother, sometimes crying, sometimes talking to her, sometimes just watching her. One day, and she still clinged onto life. The boy now knows, that is how much she loved him. And he misses her. So much.

Two days after his birthday, past midnight, the whole family was with her in her bedroom. The doctor had come two more times to check on her, and had said that she was moments away from dying. So, they were with her, because they didn't want her to be alone. She didn't deserve that after all she had done for them. In her last moments, her breathing went from labored to even worse. She wouldn't even talk. But, for the first time in days, she opened her eyes and saw all of her family. They started talking to her, saying that they were all there, by her side, and would continue to be. And they also said that she could go in peace, that there was no need for her to keep working so hard for them. That it was time for her to finally rest for a bit. She started to let go, but, two times in a row, when it looked like she was finally at peace, she would gasp for air again at keep going for a while. The third time, however, no gasp was made. At 2:30 am, two days after his birthday, his grandma died. And he finally realized just how much she meant to him. And he regretted, as he does now more than ever.

The following days passed by in a daze: the vigil, the burial... The kid tried his utmost to keep calm and just continue living. A day passed by. Then two. Then a week. Then two and three weeks. And one day he realized a month had passed already. And he noticed. That he hadn't really dealt with the loss. He just ignored it. To him, it wouldn't have been strange for his grandmother to just reappear in the living room and say she was on vacation somewhere. But things don't work out like that, and of course, that didn't happen. On that day, the boy started to think about all he had lost. No longer would his grandma cook for him. Nor tell him to study. Nor ask how he did when he just finished a test. Nor ask about his week when he came over for the weekend from his student apartment. Nor tell him a joke. Nor scold him. Nor tell him to go to sleep, or to eat. Nor just be there, smiling, when he went into the living room. And the kid cried for a long, long time. And he regrets.

It wasn't long after that that the kid had a dream. And there she was, in the living room, sitting in her spot on the couch, smiling. For the first time, the kid knew that his dream was indeed a dream. And that he would only have that chance to say what was on his mind. He approached her, and said that he missed her, and that he loved her so much. And she said that she knew, and that she did too. And they hugged. Such was her love for him, that even in death she found a way to make him feel better. When he woke up, he just laid there, crying, for almost an hour.

Almost two weeks later came the day of her birthday. Her family went to the graveyard, and there they told stories of old and laughed and cried. But that day, the kid had to return to his student apartment, and so he did. When he arrived, he went straight to his room, closed the door and just stood there. Hours passed by, and at about 2:30 am., he started thinking about her. To make himself feel better, he talked to her grandma, telling her that she didn't need to worry, that he was alright, that he would graduate without fail and go visit her tomb the first moment he could after that, for the kid knew that her grandma's dream was to be at his graduation. A dream she sadly couldn't make true. That night, as the world slept, the kid cried like never before, silently screaming for her to come back, screaming that he needed her, that he didn't want to be without her. But only the night heard his pleas, and in the night will remain, unanswered, unheard, unspoken.

Dawn is yet to come, for the night is long and full of sadness. However, it won't be the kid that greets the new day, but the man.