The Greatest Thing

There is no greater than things that can make her happy. With every strike of the clock, for every smile that she offers for me, and with every pulse of her wrist that I feel as I hold her hands; it’s indeed a beautiful thing.

It was the first week of March. I sat quietly in our university garden — wearing a white uniform and my favorite black jacket — while waiting for a girl. The breeze of wind was cold, it matched the faint light of the setting sun, and the leaves on the Acacia tree were slowly falling to the ground.

In a few weeks, we would never see the faces that used to be seen in the normal view of the classroom where we belong. Who would have thought that all the events throughout the year would end with the Graduation Hymn and the marching Students?

I've been in that place for about ten minutes, still thinking of her. I looked up at the tall, broad tree where I was sheltering. "Do you have to be weak like these leaves before you finally fall for me?" I asked in my mind, then turned my attention to the nearby corridor. I saw Lizbeth Dayle — the woman I had been waiting for — walking toward me.

In anticipation, my heartbeat gradually quickened. Like most men on our campus, I was one of those who dreamed of writing my name on her heart, even if it's impossible.

I stood up and then ran toward her. Although she's not aware of what I'm hiding inside my heart, I'm still lucky because I'm the only one close to her. She avoids men because she does not want to have an additional headache. She wants her name to be mentioned multiple times for the upcoming graduation awards. Moreover, she wanted to achieve the highest honor.

She greeted me with a bright smile on her face. After all this time, she’s never changed.

"How's the meeting?" I asked. Her beauty has not faded since then, but the tiredness could be seen through her eyes.

"It's great, I'm happy and it ended early. Have you been here for a long time?" she replied. I didn't answer her question. Instead, I just smiled at her as we walked out the gate together. I used to invite her for a walk after class, knowing that she was having a hard time studying.

We went to the park near the school as we always do. This is my way to make her feel at least happy despite being busy with so many things.

She’s a simple woman whose world just revolves around studying and going out with me. She wanted to follow her parents' will for her to be the top student in our batch — in exchange for the freedom to do what she wants. The world is not fair, because her stress and problems are not equal to the time when we're going out twice a week.

The park was noisy at those times. The surroundings seem to be happy because of the laughter of the children running. Suddenly a young vendor also appeared in front of us and said, "Buy this flower, Sir. Give it to your girl." Lizbeth and I just smiled and looked at each other. I bought the flower for her, it was not new for us. She never once gave meaning to such things.

We sat on a wooden bench near the tree. We never sat at a distance because she wanted to lean in while telling a story. We were silent for a few minutes. Even though I wanted to make a topic that we would talk about, I knew she had something in her heart that she wanted to say.

"Honestly," she said, "I'm getting tired." I was stunned by what she said. She rarely said those words. "After this year, I want us to fight together."

"I've been with you since then, I haven't left you," I replied then looked up at the sky as it gradually darkened. I jokingly added, "It's frustrating, I'm always with you but it seems that you didn't care about it."

Then again I heard her charming laugh. The full moon appeared more often than I could hear her pleasing voice.

For a few minutes, there was silence as we watched the children play. Lizbeth asked me for a very special gift if she could be the Valedictorian of our batch. I agreed even though I wasn't sure what kind of gift would make up for all her tiredness and suffering.

"As always," I said, borrowing the flower I bought for her. "I'm here to support you."

She lifted my wrist and again took the flower from my hands, then she clung to my arm.

After a while, she finally insisted to go home.

A few weeks have passed, our last day in High School has arrived. This is the day Lizbeth had been waiting for. Although we were sitting far apart, we kept trying to look at each other. That was probably the first time I saw her wearing make-up on her face. She's the most beautiful woman at that time.

The program began shortly after. The emotions of the students were felt as we sang the Graduation Hymn. As the award ceremony progressed, Lizbeth almost got tired of repeatedly climbing the stage. I felt self-deprecation because of the distance and spaces between our academic performances, and excitement because of the tremendous success she had achieved. I'm so proud of her.

The program lasted for two hours. The whole venue became boisterous after that; a variety of emotions has surrounded every moment we were in the place.

Later Lizbeth approached me with her parents. Many of the medals she had worked so hard for hung around her neck. She deserves it.

"Congrats, Miss Valedictorian," I greeted her. She just smiled and cried in front of me, not caring if her make-up was damaged. "Maybe I should prepare a gift for you."

Then she hugged me tightly, that was the first time. Suddenly my heart beat faster, and I knew she could hear it. Time seemed to stop in those moments as if there were just the two of us; as if we were in our own world.

She introduced me to her parents. Not as a best friend, classmate, close friend, or whatever. For the first time, she introduced me by my name. Her parents were kind when we talked. 

Those moments ended when they said goodbye to go home. She still has her beautiful face and her sweet smiles. She waved at me before they finally left.

The whole day ended happily. That was the last time we met. Because after that, she died of heart failure. It's because of sleep deprivation.

It was the last week of March — the last month I was with Lizbeth. I sat quietly and waited in the park where we often go, wearing the white uniform and my favorite black jacket. The breeze was cold, it matched the sadness I felt as the sun has set, and the tears from my eyes were slowly falling to the ground.

I should have given her rest when she said she was tired. I don’t know how I would make it to another June without her. I'll remember the way she walks down the school hallway as if she's the most beautiful girl in that place.

Knowing what makes her happy when she's weak isn't really the most important thing, but how can I be with her when she can't handle it anymore. Because of the time she was about to fall, she needed someone to hold on to.

Truly, she was a leaf of Acacia tree; she fell for me when she's weak.