Thank you Lord._A true story.

THIS STORY CONTAINS IMPLICATION TO DEATH AND SUICIDE, AS WELL AS SICKNESS (CF; CYSITIC FYBROSIS.) BASED ON A TRUE STORY. “You didn’t eat, you can’t sleep if you don’t eat.” my eyes fluttered open, cyrian Was sitting on the floor, his arms Linked around his thin legs,  “Also, it’s kinda strange to sleep during the day, isn’t it iris?” “I was only resting my eyes.” I say numbly, I sit up in my bed watching him. Cyrian smiles at me, he wears no mask, his face had color, he wasn’t pale, he wasn’t sickly. “I know.” He sits beside me, “iris, why are you so sad?” I blink, dumbfounded, Cyrians Forehead was creased in a puzzled frown. “Why am I sad!? Cyrian, you left me without saying goodbye, you left me and I'm all alone. YOu left on purpose” He smiles again, a sad smile, “You need to sleep.” I shake my head, “I am asleep.” “Will you at least lay down? It’s odd to sleep sitting up with your eyes open.” I grinned at him in spite of myself, “You're the odd one cyrian white.” I lay down, closing my eyes, I feel the bed sink down as he sits by me, “Cyrian?” “Yes?” I sigh, “will you stay?” “As long as you want, now go to sleep Iris. And get rid of that hate,you can keep the anger a while, that’s alright, but our father can’t watch over and help you if you hate this way.” Even when I close my eyes I feel the tears burn, “I made my choice Iris, love. Don’t ever hate, love as much as you can, love, and try to forgive.” “Don’t leave yet.” “I’ll stay awhile.” “So I won’t be alone?” his hand touches my hair, “Yeah love, so you aren’t alone.” “Cyrian, tell me a poem.” “I don’t have one.” sadness fills my heart, i miss him, “You're sad again.” he says. I nod, looking at him, “I don’t want you to go.” “It’s ok Iris, I'm never really gone. When it’s your time, i want you to see this place.” he looks around, admiring something i couldn't see, “It’s so beautiful, and peaceful, there's no hate, everybody loves each other, i can eat all i want, i can laugh, i don’t get ill i don’t go to the emergency room, it’s so amazing here, There are countless flowers all different colors, i get to see him all the time, he’s young like only 30, and he plays with the children, playing ball, he has this big garden with only roses hundreds of different types.” “Roses?” I ask, he chuckles, “Yeah Iris, even the cliche of roses. They're beautiful” I sigh, “I can’t help but be sad, I miss you.” “Don’t push away sadness, emotion, it will hurt you so much more. There is a danger in sealing up the emotional types - in the shortness of temper that comes when we cry. There is a cruelty to taking our emotions as a type of rudeness, something ‘well mannered folks would hide’. There is a cost in burying such pain in our bones rather than expressing it freely, one that brings on a loneliness of the soul. Yet with understanding and patience comes healing, a return to real joy, true happiness born in soulful connections. It is then we emotional types become a blessing to others, creating empathic connections with ease, becoming healers and helpers. For that is our purpose, to see what others do not because we feel so deeply. So be our heroes, help us to survive this cold world, and we will become your rescuers - shining true warmth into every heart, breathing peace and compassion into this ailing world.” Tears spilled from my chin, “I’m sorry.” I whisper, “What for?” “I didn’t know, I didn't see you hurting, I wasn’t there for you Cy. I love you, I'm angry, you left me, I'm all alone, I hate being alone, I hate you for leaving me cy. I can’t be alone, you can’t be gone, I can't always be missing you, I can't feel anything now cy… it’s like you took all my happiness with you, you're a coward cyrian, you took a coward's way out. But you're not…you're strong, you put up with so much…and now I'm lost… I wasn't there…I'm sorry.” A hand on my cheek, and a soft voice he answers with so much love. “Iris, this isn’t your fault, I never hated being near you, you and Kate, you kept me so happy, so alive, The sickness in my lungs, it hurt, it brought so much pain, my parents fighting, my brother… but you being with me made it all ok, everything ok, but then i kept thinking, what happens when i get worse, when i can’t keep you safe from the name calling, when i can’t see your smile light up my world? Then i’m just the sick boy, then i'm Cyrian, the boy with no parents, the sick boy, the boy whose life fell apart, the…'' tears fall from his eyes, cyrian never cried, but he cried with a smile, “Don’t cry.” I whisper. He looks down to me, “I’m crying because I'm awed. Iris, Thank you for all the memories thank you for listening to my goofy poems and sitting beside me when i was lonely, thank you for loving me when no one else did-” He pokes my forehead gently , “Iris, i love you,you are everything to me, you are my family, i never needed to have siblings, you are my family, but i love you more than i ever loved anyone ever, don’t hate me, even if im a coward, im happy now, i get to see you whenever i want, i get to be in such a happy place, it’s so beautiful here, there's no pain, and when your time comes, we get to be together my love, and until then, here i will wait, always with you. Your suffering, your memory of it, is like a teddy bear fashioned from glass shards - the tighter you cling to it the deeper it will cut. So perhaps practice putting it down for longer periods of time, noticing when you have picked it up and it slices at your skin. You and it are separate. One day you'll notice that the bad teddy bear is gone, you lost it sometime and never noticed. You will see that your good and noble choices made a better life, something positive, and now you hold a new teddy bear, soft and warm, one that brings an inner glow and keeps you cosy under starlight and sunshine alike.” a sobb racks through my ribs, “I don’t wanna forget you.” I wine, crying, he smiles gently at me, “Iris, close your eyes, you will sleep. I will stay until you sleep, and then tomorrow, when that pain comes love, endure it, make people remember me for who I was, not the sick boy, and no flower iris, how cliche.``` “Don’t go yet, weren’t you scared to die?” I whisper sleepily. “In the end it wasn’t dying that scared me but pain. If I didn’t wake up in the morning I would know nothing of it. My affairs were in order, my lover and you are as provided for as they are ever going to be. I have an army of friends committed to keeping you safe on the bus and the way home. I grieved for the loss of life I should have had with you all months ago, I cried until my eyes ran dry and my chest heaved violently. I'm not over it. I never will be. I want to be with you and be with the few people who did love me, but I was in too much pain but that isn't my lot. and I have accepted that the Lord has called me home and now I am ready to come. I have stopped asking “Why me?” I have stopped raging at God. He works as fast as he can through the scientists and doctors, I know. It just wasn't fast enough for me. So now just let me kiss the beloved people who have graced my life and go to Him. I am ready. I was ready Iris, I’m truly sorry it was too soon for you, but I am ready now, I’m ready Iris.” I heave a sigh, tears dripping from my chin, “I wasn’t ready to lose you.” “Mourn not the passing of a life well lived, yet celebrate. Count the times your souls smiled together, reached out so invisibly yet tangibly and touched. Death is only the end of a chapter, my friend. And so as this body makes ready to return to the soil, my spirit will watch over you and live in your heart. It will bring sadness as we transform to this new way of connecting, yet this is part of living.” “HAve you been talking to shakespeare?” “give me now leave to leave thee “ My heart melts, all i wanted was to hear him talk, to speak to me forever, He smiles once again so gently, he truly looked happy, “You’ll never really have lost me” I shake my head, “You speak in riddles all the time,” He laughs, but this time, there is no cough, “Sleep Iris.” “Don’t go.” “Not ‘till you sleep. Can I tell you a story?” I nod drowsy , “Ok, but sleep as well. My friend's father- I was like 5-he got a recycled plastic slide, one in the shape of a giant tube that snaked and turned. He fitted it to the wall of my friend's bedroom so that all day Ihe and I could run up the stairs, into his room and slide down into their tiny backyard. It didn't matter that they lacked the acres others had, they were in the city after all, because it was so clever the way it twisted, and we’d pass through the insulating curtains that tickled. His mother would put drinks on the route up the stairs and often there would be a family picnic mid-day, outside in the dayshine and inside when it rained. Either way the teddy bears were invited and the food was wonderful. In every daydream I'm back on that slide. It was such constant fun. At bed time when I'd sleep over, we’d close the doors over the entrance, already looking forward to the sunrise and the chance to play all over again. They are the most wonderful childhood memories, all those simple days that seemed to go on forever.”  He stands by the window peering out to the dim light, “I miss you.” I whisper, “Sleep Iris. You're never alone.” “Goodbye Iris.” ‘wait..” I say, “When it is your time, come sit with me in heaven as long as you wish. You are such a wonderful company. Then, there will come a time when you want to choose a new mission, and you will have your pick of any. Then we do it all again. It is a fine way to spend eternity, yes?” I nod, “Iris when i leave can you do somthin for me?” I look at him, meeting his eyes, “Be happy, be loved, be educated, I want you to do amazing things, find ways to help people, help the sick, all those times I told you that sickness wasn’t all of me, I think I was wrong iris… I think that it was me, i think that the way i dealt with that sickness defined me, so iris, i think i was a pretty ok person.” I smiled at him, and to my surprise it wasn’t forced, “Are you a ghost?” I ask. He laughs, and again, there is no cough. “No Iris.” “Am I delusional?” “Na.” “Then…a dream?” “What do you believe about Iris?” I believe he is an angel, but is that possible? “Are you an angel?” He smiles gently at me. His smile was one of happiness growing, much as a spring flower opens. I could see how it came from deep inside to light his eyes and spread into every part of him. A person smiles with more than their mouth, and I heard it in his voice, in the choice of his words and the way he relaxed. It was beautiful. “I dunno iris. What do you think?” I didn’t care what he was, he was safe, he was home. “I believe in god.” I whisper, “God believes in you.” He was always so clear with these things, he would say, "I will tell you the name of God, yet is not a sound made with the human mouth. And then he cleared his throat and in a soft voice he’d say, ‘ I want you to imagine a person you love, someone who you would die for. Imagine someone about to harm them, you stand in the way full knowing you take the deadly blow upon yourself. Focus on that moment you step forwards and feel the love in your heart and soul, full force, fully protective and resolute. That feeling is the name of God. So whatever sound you make with your mouth, you must attach it to that feeling and God will hear you, I promise.’ It always confused me how someone who was treated with such cruelty could trust in a deity like that. “All you need is faith Iris,” I nod to him, “Sleep.” “I told you I am asleep.” He laughs gently but loudly, shaking the room with a sway, “Are you my friend?” A gentle poke to my head and With his angelic laugh I drift to sleep, I’ll be ok, for my best friend is my guardian angel sent by god. The memory subsides, I dry my eyes. Grief has a way of removing you from the world and it takes a real strength to reconnect and weave yourself anew into the fabric of living, to give yourself a chance of future happiness. Maybe this was the future part, but maybe I still needed that pain, that twinge of hard cold pain to know I loved him for what he was. When I saw the picture of him on the metal door, the sadness drained through me rather than skating over my skin. It travelled through every cell to reach the ground. I filtered it yet strangely enough, I kept what was pure and it was the dirt that left. I stand by his locker, flowers in front of it on the floor, ‘roses, how cliche’ the sound of wind seems to say. I realize I'm holding one in my hand, a white rose, and I chuckle. I'd have to think of something else. I small piece of paper catches my eye ‘As we await the starlight and the silvery moon, the shadows of the trees dance upon the angry fence. They jaspé the wood, the leaves flickering like rays of light on window blinds, creating a new picture from moment to moment. Amid the perfume of the summer blooms, feeling the cool of the evening wash over us as the waves kiss sun-warmed sand, we savour this moment together. From neighbouring gardens comes the music of laughter, the promise of playfulness and new joys to brighten our dreams.’ Tears welled in my eyes, and I smiled softly, “A poet” He always wanted everything happy, He never wanted a sad funeral. He wanted laughs, and stupid music like walking on sunshine and three little birds. Gently, I touched a large picture of him, his chestnut hair, he was the Chestnut and the acorn, the seed of everything good to come, even after he’s gone. I'd be okay. “A chlice..” a rose lay in front of me when I turned around, a white rose. The white rose came with full pride as if her petals were the finest of sculptures, formed by the hands of a loving creator. “I think there pretty.: I hear so faintly again, warmth fills my body, I look behind me, for only a moment the light shines on a figure, Cyrian stands in white and gold, smiling, he walks to me, a gentle poke my forehead and he drifts away, he’s home. “Good bye my dear Cyrian.” I touched the photograph one last time, I took a blue locket from my coat pocket, opening it, I close my eyes now, an odd feeling entering my soul, "thank you god for the time you gave me with him, protect him.Rest in peace. Amen.” I say gently, hanging the locket to the locker door, I open it, and a beautiful drawing of a cross, I let my finger trail against it a moment, “Rest in peace.”