[yet] another lame story,,, =) haha
And This Is My Story…
No one knows the truth beneath me. No one knows the person who truly lies behind me. And no one ever will. Not until they read my story.
And this is my story.
I was born at a nearly-broken-apartment, not at hospitals like most of you did. My mother told me that it was cloudy and cold, 16°C in the spring to be exact, and neither warm blanket nor comfortable bed was there for me to sleep. Instead, I had a layer of thin fabric and a wooden cold bed. “Torturing the new-born baby,” is what my mother used to say. She couldn’t make it to the hospital nor had the guts to go into it (be real, she told me that she only got $10 in her pocket and a wedding ring as a left-over of my father!). Well, it was a miracle that I am alive. The neighbors started to yell and scream and stuff when they heard my mother’s shout that day.
My family is unique. I am one of those special people that will never have the chance to know my father. I will never know how does he look like, how does he smell, what kind of person he is, what does he like to do, his hobbies, his talents, anything. Neither can I hear his voice, nor hear his laughs. I will never know the feeling of having a father.
When I was still a little girl I often dreamt of having a father. Will my life be the same if there’s a presence of a ‘father’ in my life? Will I become the person I am now? What does it feel to be a “Daddy’s little girl”? How does it feel to be hugged by your father, at the day you want to cry? But as I grew up, these questions vanished. I began to accept the reality that I will never have a father.
My mother said that my father died because of leukemia, a week right before I was born. She said that I inherited his blue eyes, his nose, and his smile. Whenever I smile, my eyes close. “Just like your father,” she often says. I know that she really misses my father up until now. Whenever she sees me, her eyes wander; maybe thinking, if ever ‘the lost figure’ is here…
I grew up not in a poor family, yet not rich. It was enough and a little bit more for both of us; but we were happy. Maybe some people say that I am unlucky and I will never have a complete family. But I just simply don’t care. My mother and I – it’s enough for both of us. Well of course there will always be an empty chair, but we’ve tried our best to live lives that are ‘normal’. Yes, it’s also true that we’re not rich and not as lucky as other people. “Why can’t I have a father? Why can I been born in a rich family?” When you have thoughts like this you will ruin your life. But instead of looking up, just look down. There are still plenty of people that are not as lucky as you!
Giving up was never in my dictionary. My mother already had enough burdens. At least I must do what I could to satisfy her. I studied hard and determined to make my mother proud. I got straight A’s and made some good friendships. These were my happy moments. Having a great mother, extraordinary friends, enough money to live, and enjoy every moment I had. So sad but true, happy moments will never last forever.
I was 15 years old when I knew that I have leukemia, the same disease that killed my father. At that kind of age, unlike my friends that were busy with dating and having fun and stuff, I had to struggle with my own mind that keep telling me that I will have no future; that I will die soon enough.
“Mother! Guess what happened at school today! Raine really loves my new short-story that I finished last night! And my teacher praised me for getting 3-straight-A’s at English exams! And Cherry! She’s dating Andrew now! You remember, the guy from the Supermarket? I’m so happy for her!”
“Yes, dear, that is fantastic! You got another A? Come here you little girl… You’re just like your father. A genius!”
“Motheeeerr, stop talking about him. I don’t even know him. After this you’ll be crying again and again. And I don’t want to see that again…”
“I know… But if you know your father, he’s really a great person! He’s responsible, humble, kind, and gentle. In short, he’s the best man ever! And you know what? He never lets me walk alone! I remember the time when we must went opposite ways but he still walked me to my home. And he…”
“Okay, okay, I already heard that story a thousand times before. …Anyway, Mother, he’s not that responsible. He left you and me alone…”
“Dear, you know that he doesn’t want to. He loves you so much and he will never want to leave you. But he couldn’t run from his destiny though. You should be proud on your father. Even though he had that kind of disease he’s still trying to live his life until his last breath…”
(Well, what’s the use? He did leave us anyway…)
I’ve cried again and again. The tears had dried and run down again. It was like an endless-stream of sadness. All was black. No more color. No more light. No more hope. I could barely face tomorrow. Just imagine when you’re fifteen and you’re supposed to be at the peak of your youth; you have to face the fact that you’re going to die. Life is cruel. And it is unfair.
I was drowned in my sadness and powerless at the same time. I had lost hope. Leukemia is the disease with no cure. And through the blood in my veins I have inherited this disease from my father, the man that I have never known.
Anger consumed me.
Why must I live? What’s the use of this life I have? We’re going to die in the end! So why must we live? What purpose do we have? Why? There’s no good for me!
I hated my father. I hated my life. I hated my weakness. But most of all, I hated myself that couldn’t accept the reality.
In a blink of an eye, the girl with passion and hard-working has gone. She was buried, deep inside my heart. And even though I really missed the old me, my conscious denied to accept that girl once more. It said, “Enough with what you’ve been through. It’s no use of being your-old-timid-self again!”
But I am grateful. At those terrible times, my mother was always been there for me. And I know she will always be. Whenever I need a shoulder to cry on, or maybe a person to scream off the unfairness of life, she was there. She cried with me; she strengthened me; she helped me to carry the burden; and most of all, she loved me. She loved me with all her might. I just didn’t realize it back then.
But the number one credit I want to give is not for my mother. It’s for this guy-the guy who helped me to find myself back, when I was lost at that space.
I was going to a lake and even had planned suicide there. I had lost all hope, why must I continue on living? I was just torturing myself, to continue living like this. Maybe it was better if I die. And I really thought about that. On that chilly autumn I sat there beside the lake, staring at the blue water, hoping, I could become one with them… But on that chilly autumn beside the lake, I was remembered, that hope, is never lost.
He has brown eyes with curly hair. By the look of his face I know that he was about my age, maybe even older. Well, why must I care? I was going to die anyway. But he saw me; he walked towards me, and asked me my name.
“Caitlin,” I said to him.
“Well, mine’s Josh. What are you doing in here alone by the way? It’s cold, you know.”
“Well, I don’t care if it’s cold or such. I just want to be alone.”
“Hey, I care. What if you catch a cold or freezing to death?”
“I’m going to die anyway, so to die now or later is the same for me.”
“Eh? You’re not like other girls. Funny. Well, put on this jacket. It’s against my conscious to let a girl died ‘freezing’ in front of me.”
I laughed at his ‘ironic’ joke and I realized, it was the first time I laughed since I knew that I had leukemia. I canceled my plan to die, and spent the rest of the day talking to him.
He was funny, and thoughtful. And it happened that he was seventeen at that time. He knew how to react in front of girls. And when I imagined it, my mother’s stories came into my head one by one; the story about my gentle father. When it was so late he walked me home, and promised to meet me at the same place and same time tomorrow; made me longing for tomorrow to come.
Days became weeks, weeks became months. We became good friends and then best friends. We did many things together. He made me wanted to go to school again; to get my courage once more, and tried to hope. But one day he found out about my illness-the day that I never wanted to come.
We were back at the lake and chatted about many things. I was sixteen, and he was eighteen. That day I didn’t feel too well but I really wanted to see him. I knew my time was short. Maybe I wouldn’t see him anymore. So I wanted to express my feelings to him, and then vanished. I didn’t want to hurt him. He already gave so much to me – he gave me my-old-self back.
The wind was blowing hard and suddenly I felt dizzy. I was in panic. I didn’t want to die, yet. I looked deeply into his eyes and before I could say anything, I collapsed. I was unconscious and was brought to the hospital. And right there, the doctor told him that I have leukemia.
When I woke up in the hospital I saw my mother was crying. She hugged me tightly and then left him and me to be alone. Then, he burst into tears. I began to cry too. He told me that I was a fool because I never let him knew about my disease. And I told myself that I was a fool because of collapsing in front of him and made him knew that I had this disease. After that I told him to go away. But he never did. He sticks right beside me, up until now.
I treasure my life. Now I know what’s the meaning of life. It’s not how long your life spend is but it’s how you realize the most important things in life. It’s not about being rich and being popular and such things, but it’s about living your life to the most and enjoying them. We’re only humans. Sooner or later our time will come. It’s not ‘when’ will it come but ‘how’ you have lived your life until that time comes.
I am 19 years old and this time I am sure, that my time is short. I can hardly breathe and have no power left. But I think that I should tell you this story – my story. I’ve learned to be grateful. If it’s not because of my father, I won’t learn about the true meaning of life. If it’s not because of my disease, I won’t learn how to be grateful about my life. And if it’s not because of you, I won’t learn a thing about true love. So thank you, all of you, for my father, my mother, and you. Thank you.
One more thing, you don’t need to remember me. But know this, I will always remember you. So before it’s too late, I just want to see your smile once more… and I won’t say goodbye. I’ll say, “‘til we meet again.” For death, is not the end; it only ends when you say so.
10 October 2007