The last time I saw you...

I often think back to the last time I saw you. The last time I saw you breathing without a tube, standing, buzzing around actually. There is a part of me that wishes it wasn't the way I remember it. That part of me that believes in altering reality through memory. But, I suppose, the way I remember you on that day was a sign that it could very well be my last. What a sad way to remember someone.

Your eyes looked like they would spring out of your face, the colour was lost to your madness and your gallant stature seemed unsteady. You were like a light bulb only seconds away from burning out.

I came to say good-bye. How strange it is to think that it was a good-bye that most of us don't think about. The one where when you leave you stop and think, ' that could have been the last time I ever see him.' But of course, we never believe these small, intrusive thoughts. I was heading to a strange land to seek out new adventures and I left you there in all your pain and psychosis, not thinking about the depth of your struggle. I didn't see you drowning because I was too busy living. The guilt I've felt about that has subsided but will never be completely subdued. I remember the days when you would pick me up for our night class. You were doing so well. We always shared a dozen laughs before we even got to the parking lot and there were a hundred more giggles to be had during class. That laugh of yours made the whole world light up. People say that about the dead, don't they? But you and I, and everyone we know, know this to be the absolute truth. When did your laugh turn into a cry out for help? Why wasn't I listening?

I don't remember what you were saying, you were talking so fast. I don't think you sat down for even a second. I just sat at the table, ignoring the truth. I hate everything about this memory. Why didn't you and I grab a beer from the fridge and sit out on the deck to smoke until we couldn't breathe? We should have sat out there until the sun came up. Like that day when were were on the verge of two very different paths. We sat out on your driveway, leaning on your dad's car. I don't think we smoked yet, or maybe we did. We lingered in the hot sun, talking, realizing that we were friends. How lucky we were to be family and friends all in one breath. I remember thinking how great it was that I had someone I considered a brother who was just like me, an ally in our often unforgiving family. If we could just go back to that summer day.

And so I left and six weeks later I returned. I didn't call you, I knew I would see you soon. A couple of weeks had gone by and our city was bursting with summer light. It was a Sunday morning and I was in a state of bliss. I called my  mom to tell her I would be riding my bike over to their place with an approximate time of arrival being in 45 minutes. Within minutes, my mom called back. You were in a coma and nobody knew why or how. I had a feeling but couldn't be sure. Mom told me to hang tight for a few hours until we could go see you at the hospital. Feeling uneasy but calm, I went for brunch.

Happy to be sitting in the sun, drinking coffee, I reached for the newspaper. I flipped to the second page and the world began to spin. The article told me everything I didn't want to know. Or at least all that I didn't want to believe to be true. We waited out the hours until we could go see you and I fell apart.

There were already crowds of people waiting outside of the ICU, waiting to see you. Our whole family had already been in. I don't think anyone looked up. Heads bowed, crying, hearts crumbling. My little brother, yours too, said he would take me in to see you and I still didn't know what to expect. The doors opened, we walked to the end and my brother gestured to the bed straight ahead. I couldn't see your face as your grown up belly was in the way. I got closer, standing to your right. I took one look at your face and my legs gave out. My brother caught hold of me and held me while I wailed. My body turned to liquid, vibrating in shock, disbelief and, most of all, pain. I don't remember how long I sat there or what happened next. The days that followed are all melded together. But those days were empty of you, of your beautiful laugh.

The last time I saw you, you were halfway to your grave. How I wish we could go back to better days, before this all began.