People often say that you’ll never know how important something is before it is gone and as the silence bounced off the four walls of the house, how the hollow emptiness carved itself deeper I understood what those words really meant. It hasn’t been long since he left, since the day he’s taken away from me but every second felt like that day itself, the pain is fresh not only in my memories but also in my heart. It’s a stabbing pain, a nagging ache that refuses to go away and the ticking of the clock makes it all the more unbearable.

Before the tears took the better of me I stood up, the scratching of the chair on the linoleum floor sounding louder than it should be. It’s probably because I was used to hearing someone else’s voice over the noise, used to looking at a bright heart-shaped smile and doe-eyes to realize how blinding the sun could be from our kitchen window. I’m suddenly hyperaware of the things that I’ve never paid attention to before, only because he was gone.

Gone

I couldn’t help but let out an empty chuckle, feeling the familiar prickling in my eyes come back as I wash the dishes. Later on I’ll need to put his things away, to compile them in neat boxes because I’d probably die too if I kept on seeing them. It’s amazing how it takes years and centuries to leave a mark on a place for it to be called your own, and it only takes a second for it to be wiped away. The memories remain though, all the what ifs, the maybes, the vagueness of a future you believed to be nothing but happiness and brightness. Suddenly everything’s dull and blank – pointless. And it hurts, it goddamn hurts. But I can’t cry—I wouldn’t allow it.

The closet creaks open and I remembered him putting oil on its hinges because the sound creeped him out. It’s pathetic how the simplest of sounds could remind me of him, even the way his black clothes had looked beside my multicolored ones is enough to drown me in loneliness. I miss him, so much it hurts. What’s worse is that it’s not the kind that will go away after a few weeks. This one’s permanent, a kind of certainty I despised because he’s not coming back.

Forever

The word tasted like copper, makes the bile rise up my throat. It’s disgusting to say the least because a few days ago the word was nothing but a promise of a happy ending, synonymous to his laughs and giggles, to his sweet voice and soft touches. The word had always been an epitome of him. And now they’re nothing – empty, hollow, much like what I’m left with. Much like what I’ve been feeling since he was gone. It’s too strong, too overwhelming and it drowns me.

And no one is there to help me.

His clothes smelled of him and I folded each of them with shaky fingers and an equally shaky breath. This is torture I think to myself. Each shirt had a memory of him for me, each scenario playing right before my eyes I felt myself suffocating. I miss him. I ing miss him. And it hurt, each object that belonged to him felt like thorn being stabbed in my heart. Taking his things away was supposed to make me feel better they said, supposed to help me accept they said.

It didn’t

If anything it made me remember the reality that I’ve lost him, that the other side of the bed will forever stay cold, that the other half of my closet will stay empty, that the other end of the table will be kept untouched. He isn’t here anymore, and he won’t be coming back.

Soon I found myself curled up into a ball on the bed we had shared for years, clutching onto his favorite shirt and burying my face in his pillow and I’m immediately engulfed in his scent, of his memory, of the only things I’ve been left with. I wanted to cry, to hear my wails echo in the room but I couldn’t. The pain wasn’t numbing nor was it welcomed.

It’s there but I know that no matter how much I try to push it away, how much I deny it, it will stay.

Because he’s gone now

And I’m here… alone

===============

The clock strikes another hour just as I was pulling the black coat over my arm and with blind precision I buttoned it closed. A tanned male stared blankly at me from the mirror in front of me, brown eyes as hollow as the expression on his face. It’s obvious how much of a mess I’ve become, a stark contrast to the bubbly and cheesy young married man of five years. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had smiled or laughed, refused to let my mind wander off to the closest memory because I know it’s filled with him. He was my happiness – my laughter and everything. And now I’m left with nothing but the black clothes on my back.

It wouldn’t be long I told myself. It would just be a few hours I told myself. And then I could wear my normal clothes again, the printed shirts and ripped jeans I owned because black is his color – his style. It looked good on him too.

But not on me, it looked despicable on me.

Just this once though I’ll let myself wear it.

With a heavy sigh I ran a hand through my hair, refusing to use the hair gel he used to style my hair with. The key on the bedside table jingled as I grabbed it, the Pororo keychain swaying side to side, the door clicking close behind me. I exhaled heavily and made my way to the car where our friends are waiting. The usual cheering and laughter was gone and was replaced by sullen faces and sad eyes. I understood why of course because I was the epitome of devastation as of the moment.

Could they blame me though because how do you cope with losing someone who meant the world to you?

The drive was quiet but thick with the heaviness of losing someone of great importance to each of us. One had lost a friend, one a brother. And soon a bunch of people in black suits almost similar to ours could be seen a few distances away. The engine stopped and with a deep breath I climbed down. Each step felt heavier than the other, the black coffin a stark contrast to the white lilies on top of its lid and the empty, hollow land on the earth looked like an exact replica of the void in my chest that had never ceased to me in.

The crowd had made a pathway for me to walk through when we were close enough. The lid was still open and I dared myself to look at him one last time. My fists balled up beside me and I automatically bit onto my lower lip to keep myself from screaming. Kyungsoo looked amazing even in death, the white suit making him look like an angel. Suddenly there was an urge to touch his face despite knowing how cold it would feel against my palm, to kiss his lips that had turned blue, to lay there beside him and never let him go.

“Anything you’d like to say Mr. Kim?” a voice had asked. I stayed still, quiet, and as if our friends understood it all they pulled the speaker away from me.

You told me not to cry when you are gone…

I took a step back and nodded at the priest. The blessing had begun just as I had clawed at the left side of my chest. It hurt—the way the hollowing hole in my heart grew bigger hurt.

But the feelings are overwhelming; it’s much too strong…

The coffin’s lid has been screwed shut and they lifted it up, getting ready for it to be lowered down on the ground where Kyungsoo will lie for the rest of eternity. Everything moved in slow motion and just as they began lowering him down I took a step forward, one of our friends was quick enough to hold me by the arm though

Can I lay by your side? Next to you…

“Kyungsoo…” I breathed and being able to speak his name for the first time after he died was too painful, like my mouth had missed the way his name rolled out of my tongue.

And make sure you’re alright. I’ll take care of you like you have always done for me…

Because I’m not alright… and I’ll never be alright again

I tried to break free from the hand that’s been holding me back, tried to find a way to reach Kyungsoo again but our friends held me down. My knees had hit the ground, my mouth opening into an earsplitting scream of his name, a plea to be with the person I had loved and will continue to love.

They said death doesn’t put an end to love—and it doesn’t.

It makes it unbearably painful though but that only proves how true that love is.

“Kyungsoo-hyung!” I screamed at the very top of my lungs, reaching out a hand in his direction, begging for me to wake up from this nightmare.

I can’t do this I thought to myself. I can’t, not without him.

I don’t want to be here if I can’t be with you…

For the first and last time, I let myself cry, a heart-shaped smile and a pair of pretty doe-eyes etched at the deepest part of my heart, where the most precious memories of Kyungsoo will stay.

Forever