My Last Few Days

May 9th

Dear Cassie,

I’m scared. It’s 1:46 AM and I’m absolutely terrified, and I know you are too. Just a couple of days ago, we were unpacking our bags after a twelve-hour drive outside the city while you were grumbling about how you hate the countryside.

“Do you know how many bugs are out here?” you complained while pulling out your phone. “There’s not even any cell service,” you sighed while you fell on the bed with a big huff. I remember lying by your side and kissing your head. The scent of rose and hibiscus filled my nostrils while I fought back the tears in my eyes.

“C’mon,” I smiled, “It’s only for a few days.” I picked myself off the bed, making sure you didn’t see my swelling eyes, “Entertain me.” I remember feeling your sorrow in my heart like the squeeze you feel when the doctors prepare your arm for a shot. I decided to leave you alone for a while to process the move.

The warm breeze from outside nearly swept me off my feet as soon as I opened the front door. I walked over to the giant willow tree right outside the house and sat down to catch my breath. My eyes locked on two little hummingbirds winding and weaving through the hanging leaves. I think that at some point in our relationship, we were the hummingbirds. Their vibrant colors, symbolizing our once youthful energy, shimmer in the sunlight and become blinding if you stare at it from the right angle. Our colors are much duller now, but you already know that. We’ve both experienced so much; it’s hard to tell who’s grayer. All I know is that my burdens have become yours, and I truly wish I could tell you just how sorry I am for that.

Several hours must have passed because the once blue sky had turned into a flurry of pinks and purples. Maybe it was the fact that we were only going to be here for a few days, but I think I saw colors that I’ve never seen before. It was a beauty that you only experience if you pay attention. I hope you were able to see it too.

As I walked back into the house, the smell of warm bread and homemade soup took over my senses. I sat across from you, but you didn’t want to look at me - I understand why - so we ate dinner in silence for the first time ever. Please don’t feel bad, Cassie. I know that this is hard for you too. I never expected you to be at your one hundred percent at all times. I just wish that I had the courage to start a conversation.

I spent most of the next morning in the bathroom while you slept. The coughing has gotten much worse, and I didn’t want to wake you up. It’s harder to breathe now. It feels like I’m breathing through those little plastic bags you grab when you’re about to throw up, and as sad as it is, I’m glad that it’ll all be over soon. I just wish that I didn’t have to leave you.

I was cleaning the dishes when you walked in, looking like you hadn’t slept in days. I couldn’t even tell whose bags under their eyes were bigger. Like last night, you avoided eye contact as you walked over to the fridge. 

“You couldn’t have picked like a five-star hotel or a villa on a beach?” I couldn’t tell if you were joking or not, “At least it’d be bigger than this.” I kept my head down, trying not to cry, but you just walked off trying to find something to do. Yes, your words hurt, but I can’t even imagine how hurt you are knowing that these are the last few days that you’re going to spend with me. Even so, let me tell you why I picked to spend my last three days in a small house in the middle of nowhere. 

Growing up in the big city in a lower-middle-class family, all you see for most of your life are gray buildings and lifeless people. Our family vacations were stops at our grandma’s house just outside of the city. I would bake cookies, catch fireflies, and climb trees. Even getting into my early twenties, the countryside felt more like home than anywhere else, until my diagnosis. Breast cancer causes you to spend a lot of time in hospitals, but you made it easier. You’d tell me stories of what we were going to do once they get the tumor out, and for once, I had hope. But that hope was destroyed the minute they told me that the cancer had spread to my lungs and there was nothing they could do. It wasn’t long until they told me that I had no more than a week to live and I requested to get some pills that would make the passing easier. I remember feeling as if you had forgotten this, so that’s why I busted into our room, ready to remind you.

“You can’t keep pushing me away like this,” I screamed. “I want you here to support me, not to criticize my choices.” You stared at me, speechless, almost as if you had just seen a ghost as I was coughing in between words. “I’ve been trying to understand you. I’ve been making excuses for you. Don’t you know that this is hard for me too?”

“I-”

“Whatever,” I fumed, “I was really hoping my last full day would be more magical than this,” I hissed as I stormed out of the room. Maybe you took this from a different perspective, but I wasn’t angry. I was heartbroken.

I stomped over to the willow tree, choking on my breath, and threw myself on the ground. I laid there for hours while tears raced down red hot cheeks. The coughing just got worse as I started hyperventilating to the point where I almost passed out until you put your hand on my chest.

“I’m sorry,” you admitted with swollen eyes yourself. “I’ve been such a prick and overall bad friend.”

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t-”

“No. You have no reason to be sorry.” We stared into each other’s eyes for what felt like the most peaceful few hours I’ve ever experienced until you grabbed my face and kissed me.

“I’m scared, Cassie,” I choked, “I don’t want to go.”

“I don’t want you to go either, but I know you’ll always be with me no matter what,” I remember giving you the biggest hug I’ve ever given as you pulled me up from the ground. Next thing I know, you’re holding out your hand with the biggest smile on your face.

“What are you doing?” I laughed

“Vanessa Gutierrez,” you smirked, “May I have this dance?” You and I both knew that there was no music, but the sounds of crickets and cicadas were enough for us. The fireflies circled at our feet as our heartbeats kept time, and underneath the starlit sky, for all the gods to see, I finally felt safe after ten years of sickness.

I’m still scared, but writing this letter for you has helped me calm down enough to see that everything will be okay. I love you, Cassie. You have been the sunshine of my life even in the darkest times, and even though I won’t physically be with you after tomorrow, I will always be watching over you.

Love, Vanessa