I’m Looking For You (Pt III)
It’s been a year since I wrote to you. It’s been 6 since you left us. But it’s been a fraction of a second since I last thought about you. Life has been really tough without you, sometimes I feel like quitting, but every time I do, I tell myself that I have the choice to live, and you didn’t, so I have to live for you, for them. I remember when I was about 8 years old, and I forgot my favorite Barbie at the playground. I bawled my eyes out for 2 weeks, until mom and dad bought me another one that was the latest one out and everything was perfectly fine after that. I totally forgot about the one I lost, as if it didn’t even exist. I don’t want it to be that way with you; I never want to replace you. I don’t want a newer, updated version of you, because there isn’t. You were one of a kind, like when a designer only makes one of each item, God made only one of you. My parents and friends forced me to go on dates with a few people. I don’t understand why they can’t comprehend that I’m still not ready to move on, because I’ll never be ready. They tell me that the twins need a fatherly figure around, but why can’t I be enough for them?
The last fight we had was just a few minutes ago. They told me that if I hadn’t been so immature and met you in the first place, I wouldn’t have been in this situation. Every single letter, and world, and sentence tore a piece of my heart, piece by piece until there was nothing left. I thought they would be there for me, I thought that they were mourning your loss just like I was, but it wasn’t true. They didn’t care how much you meant to me, all they wanted was for me to burry my story just like they buried you. They want to throw the thought of you out of my head, but they know that my love for you is a permanent piece of me now, and getting rid of it, means getting rid of me too. I completely lost it, I screamed, I yelled, and everything in between. In the span of 2 hours, I had already packed my stuff and the twins’ and barged out the door. They tried to convince me to come back, yelling my name, but the sound of my sobs, and the crying of the twins were too loud to hear anything clearly. I didn’t have a job because I decided my…our kids were far more important than myself, and I depended on my parents for financial support, I had my credit card with some savings though. I’m broke with no car, with limited money, and no place to stay. But I knew I had one thing that was infinite, something that would always be there for me: the thought of you being here. If I’m feeling down, or hopeless, or like I want to give up, you somehow have the ability to push all that negativity out of me. But, maybe I was too impulsive in leaving home; it was definitely the wrong decision, but I couldn’t let them say that about you, I couldn’t let them step on my dignity, and yours, like that. I turned off my phone, so no one would try to call me, and headed to the nearest, and cheapest, motel to stay the night, just until the morning, so I thought. One day turned into 2, and into 3 with only a quarter left of what I had in my savings. I’m really scared, and I never imagined my life getting to this point. I think I’m even more scared than the twins are. They kept asking me why we weren’t at home, and I couldn’t find a way to explain to them what had happened. I told them to think of it as a little vacation, and that seemed to keep them busy for a while. They were 7 years old, and beginning to understand things around them much better, which made it harder for me to mask my emotions whenever they brought you up.
On day 4, I went to the ATM to withdraw some cash, but it wouldn’t work. I tried once. Then again. Then again. I hit the machine with so much force, and I fall to the ground. It felt my knees totally gave up on me, they no longer want to support me, just like my parents. Everyone is looking at me, but I didn’t care. I hold my head in my hands. My parents had deactivated my card. Was this their way of bringing me back home? I’m 23 years old; they can’t do this to me. Now, all I had was a single banknote of 50. I couldn’t even pay for an extra night at the motel. What on earth was I going to do? I try to negotiate with the motel owner, but they said its business and they can’t depend on a homeless single mom to pay them back. I couldn’t really reply or be angry, because unfortunately they were right… absolutely right. I took my things and the kids and walked the streets for what seemed like hours. They were starving and thirsty, so I bought them all I could afford, a happy meal and a bottle of water. As we walked, we would pass by homeless people; drug addicts, prostitutes, elders, teens, and every type of person imaginable. The kids asked me if we’re going to be like them, if we’ll have to beg too. I told them that it’s just for tonight, but I knew part of me was lying, and they could sense it too.
We found one alley that was the emptiest of the others. I spread out a blanket on the floor, and threw a pillow that I took from the motel on top. I told the kids to try to get some sleep, because we have a long day ahead of us. I lay down beside them, looking up at the stars above and wondering why the creator of all those stars, couldn’t make me as one too. I see one star shining brighter than all the others, and suddenly, I feel a single tear roll down the side of my face. The tears kept on coming, but they weren’t sad tears, they were happy ones. I ask myself, how I could I be feeling any amount of happiness amidst all of this mess and hopelessness? But somehow, I feel like it’s you, reassuring me and telling me that all hardships pass. I felt like this was all I needed to continue surviving, to live for my kids, to live for you. I can’t give up now, and I can’t give up ever, not until I’m with you again. I put my pen down, and watch my tears stain the papers. I feel as if someone is hugging me, and telling me everything is okay. I don’t think it’s weird because I’ve been feeling it for 6 years. I hold the kids tight, and sleep peacefully for the first time in a while.