On That Day and Forevermore

Numbness was a fickle thing. Some days, it would feel like the thinnest and most fragile veil, ready to tear apart and let the emotions consume me. On the rest of the days, it would be a thick, steel wall that showed no chance of reprieve. Reprieve of what? The numbness itself. 

On that day, the numbness was something that I invited and welcomed. It was a bliss that kept me away from the realities and cruelties of this world. But now, it has locked me away from everyone and everything else. I knew that to ask for its help would mean being ensnared in its trap. But on that day, I couldn’t have cared less. I was too desperate for an escape, and now… I felt nothing. 

“Let’s have our family talk now,” Dad interrupted my sisters’ conversation. “Before we all separate after dinner.” 

Dinner was our New Year’s celebration. It was drumsticks and Mom’s signature potato recipe that I loved. She had made it specially for me. And while I told her I appreciated the gesture, I didn’t. Gratefulness, contentment, and excitement had all eluded me. I could only sit there silently as my family ate to their heart's content with hearty laughter and chatter. I wasn’t sure if they knew that I was not in the mood. I showed no grief or anger outwardly- because I felt none of them. I felt nothing. 

“We should all talk about our New Year’s Resolutions, one by one,” Mom said when the table quieted down. “Who wants to go first?” 

“The youngest one,” Lilac said immediately. Noah glared at her. 

“Fine. I’m not a coward like you,” he retorted. 

“Noah,” Mom began sternly. 

“My resolution,” he talked over her, “is to be nicer to my sisters.” 

“Funny you say that after what you did,” Liliac muttered. 

He glared at her. “Mom told me to!” 

“You weren’t supposed to say that part,” Mom sighed. She looked at Lilac expectantly. “What’s yours, darling?” 

“To get better grades,” she replied airily. “I already have a boyfriend and plenty of friends.” 

“You could try to get a better body,” Christy suggested. 

“Christy,” Dad reprimanded her this time. “We don’t body shame here.” 

“It’s fine,” Lilac brushed it off. “Everyone knows I have the best body in this family.” 

Christy grumbled under her breath but didn’t object. “My resolution is to grow out of my comfort zone.” 

“That’s a wonderful resolution,” Mom said warmly. “Very smart.” 

“What about mine?” scoffed Lilac. “I thought you always were on us about grades.”

“That’s a good one too,” Dad assured her. He looked at me, a bit of apprehension on his face now. “What’s yours?” 

Everyone’s eyes were on me now. The mood had shifted drastically, from merry and celebrative to awkward and tense. I already regretted sharing to them the news of his death on that day. They didn’t know how to act around me, whether to treat me with pity or with normalcy. Noah was too young to understand what had happened; Mom tried to keep most of the details from him. Christy and Lilac had initially avoided me but when I showed no sign of grief, they acted the same as before. Both Mom and Dad treated me like I was fragile, ready to break down and pour out my feelings. Maybe they were even hoping for that. Who would want a heartless person as a daughter anyway?  

“I’m going to be a better friend to everyone,” I announced. “Even if they’re mean to me, I’ll try to think about their point of view and treat them well.” 

There was a pause. Christy and Lilac exchanged a glance but didn’t say anything. Noah looked baffled. Mom and Dad were watching me expectantly but I didn’t say any more. 

“That’s a beautiful wish,” said Dad finally. 

“It is,” Mom agreed. 

“You’re already pretty nice,” Noah sniffed. “You help me with my homework every time.” 

“I want to be nicer,” I said. My thoughts drifted when they shifted the conversation to Dad’s resolution. I started thinking about all the people in my life who I hadn’t been friendly to. I was making a list of all the people I should keep track of so I could reach out to them. As I continued planning, my resolve hardened. It wasn’t determination or passion, just the steadfast firmness of my decision that I wouldn’t make the same mistake as last time- as I did on that day. I would look out for every sign, I would be sensitive to everyone’s needs, and I would help everyone whenever I could. 

The conversation ended after Mom finished saying her resolutions. We helped clear the table and wash the dishes. Then I headed up to my room to contemplate in silence. Something that I had been doing often, whether I realised it or not. The numbness was a strong force that crept into my mind as well and drove all thoughts out so that I’d be reduced to a husk of a girl who could only stare ahead blankly. I didn’t mind. It was a way to pass the time, something very important when all activities had ceased to interest me. Well, except for one. 

I got onto Instagram for the hundredth time today and scrolled through my chats with him. It was pitiful how little I had to scroll; a sign of our lack of friendship. I read through his texts, noting how he had always been the one to reach me first. I tried to think about how I would never receive a message from him, I would never be able to talk to him again. I felt nothing. My eyes were dry and my chest was hollow. I lacked a heart. It was the price for the short bliss that numbness had given me. 

I went to the Instagram story and posted a simple message:

Please check on your loved ones and friends. You don’t know when happiness has eluded them, and when you’ve lost them, happiness will have eluded you too.

When I was done, I set my phone aside. It was hardly much. The real work was going to come later, the struggle to remember this year’s resolution for the rest of my life. But this was a start, to keep on warning others to not make the same mistake I had. 

Being a student had never been easy to me and I was stricken that life had grown impatient and decided to show me the lesson in all its harshness. But now the lesson was ingrained in my head and there was no forgetting it. The only flicker of emotion that I had, just a fleeting thought, was the regret that he couldn’t still be here to reap the benefits of what he had taught me. 

R.I.P. Ender... I wish I had called you that night, and many nights before