Chapter Text
Saying goodbye is never easy. There’s always something belittling the pathway to the next time in my life. Those pointlessly thin speed bumps on the roadways into the back neighborhood. Our dog, Luna, hitting the wall with her head as we both laugh, wasting precious walk time that has become rarer over the decades. Or even mom and dad’s shouts downstairs as they yell at Corey for running away, you cowering in my arms as if they were nothing but a curtain to block the roars.
Right now that thing is your dead body lying peacefully across the pavement below.
Why you chose the roof I'll never know, for a roof is such a boring way to climb the stairway to heaven. You were always the creative one in the family; I expected something more grand and flamboyant, not a measly death that only Vani would be capable of doing.
It’s sad. I wanted more. I had higher hopes.
I thought you would let mom and dad know first before you took flight, you Icarus.
Those wings take you too close to the sun.
Maybe the way your violet hair is splayed along the slabs is to form your wings, preparing to carry you into the next world.
I fear I’ve already forgotten if you believed in a god.
Were you a god?
No, a god wouldn’t have a mother shrieking high into the night as she approaches the loud crack from the
depths in the kitchen. A god wouldn’t have a father coming to grab hold of the woman, cooing in her ears words of calming matter.
A god wouldn’t have a brother onlooking from a third story balcony at midnight, psychoanalyzing a simple suicide. I wouldn’t be standing here, book in hand, pasting down my thoughts as Corey tears open his bedroom curtains from the second story window, his face morphing through a facade of sleep to one of frozen terror, even if it was late July.
The warm winds tussle your hair as dad pulls mother away, a cell phone typing out emergency contacts.
Water slaps over the edges of the pool.
None touches your body.
A barrier bathes you in the moonlight.
I think it was about now that father noticed my presence above, but he made no comments until dinner the following evening. You won’t get the chance to witness a final yelling, one out of grief and mourning, falsely directed anger whilst Corey and mom sit quietly, moving peas to and fro across the yellow fiestaware.
That night would be one for me to remember.
I can’t help longing for what you’ve done. Jealousy controls my emotions at this time, and I can’t help thinking how you would do this so selfishly only for yourself.
Were my struggles not enough for you to want to keep living?
Why would you die when I needed you?
No. You are not dead.
You are more alive than ever.