Without meaning to, I let out a gasp, a hand coming up to cover my mouth as I took it in, feeling al the emotions I’d been trying to bury build up, threatening to overwhelm me. ‘He- he finished it,’ I mumbled, my arm suddenly feeling far too heavy to keep my hand in the air any longer, letting it fall back to my lap. ‘He – I didn’t think…’ All of a sudden, things made a whole lot more sense. ‘He never really needed all that paint, did he? He was just- just stalling.’
For the first time since walking through my bedroom door, I turned to look at my family, all of whom were watching me with something like sympathy – except Zia, of course, who’d grabbed one of her little picture books off the shelf she’d commandeered and settled herself on my reading chair.
‘We were putting the bed together; it took longer than we thought it would and you were done quicker than we’d expected. When you called… well, we didn’t want you to come home early, ruin the surprise. So, Jai made it up, sent you an extremely long, specific list of paints to keep you busy for a while until we finished up,’ bhaiya explained. ‘He’d already finished up with the wall when they delivered the bed.’
I nodded and turned back to the wall, staring at it but unable to really see it through the film of tears that obscured my vision. I refused to let them fall, to cry in front of everyone, determinedly holding back the moisture in my eyes, not letting a single tear fall until I heard bhabhi say they’d give me some time alone and calling for Zia to go with them as they left the room.
Once I heard the soft snick of the door closing, I stopped holding them in, letting them fall, thick and fast.
I realised that it was the first time since I’d woken up after surgery that I was crying because of the sadness, the grief. I’d cried plenty in the first few days but it hadn’t been because of the pain or the upset. They’d been tears of panic, of anger, of frustration.
It was an unconscious coping mechanism I’d developed as a kid, the first time I’d had to deal with losing someone, burying pain and grief and sorrow under anger, frustration, even anxiety. Dealing with my own problems wasn’t like dealing with everyone else’s. When it was other people’s shit I was dealing with, I just put aside my own feelings, acted like they didn’t even exist. When I had my own issues, I hid within myself, hid so well that even I couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t.
Most of the time, I wouldn’t even recognise it, wouldn’t realise I was doing it. And then, inevitably, Jai would point it out to me, make me talk through my thoughts, psychoanalyse me.
But, of course, I didn’t have Jai anymore.
The fact hit me harder than ever right then, slamming into me like a tidal wave, dragging me under and drowning me in my own misery.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
I’m not sure how much time passed before the tears finally ran dry. I felt like minutes and hours and days all at once. All I know is that, when my door creaked open and an extremely familiar little face peered through the gap, I’d long since stopped crying and had been simply sitting there, staring off into space for a good while.
‘Fui?’ Zia called, tentatively pushing the door open a little more.
‘Hey there little monster,’ I said, turning my attention to her and giving her the best smile I could muster.
‘C’n I c’me in?’ I nodded and she hurried in, shutting the door and eagerly clambering up on the bed beside me. ‘You otay fui?’
‘Yeah, course I am,’ I assured. ‘I just, I got a little bit confused is all. A little like… you know how you felt when you came downstairs on your birthday and everything was decorated and there were presents everywhere?’
‘Yeah!’ she exclaimed, nodding enthusiastically.
‘Well, this is a little bit like that. Only- only the person who’s usually with me when things like this happen, the one who usually does these things for me, he’s not here and that made me kinda sad.’
‘Unc’a Jai?’ she asked. I just nodded and she sighed, laying down with her head in my lap. ‘I miss him.’
‘Me too.’
‘Why’s he gotta be gone?’
I let out a breath and thought about it for a while before answering, choosing my words carefully. ‘Well, because, we all only get given so much time here on Earth. We’re put here with a list of things to do and, when we’ve done it, we go back to where we came from,’ I explained, running a hand through her hair, gently untangling the knots. ‘But, just because we can’t see him or hear him, doesn’t mean your uncle Jai isn’t still here. He’s never going to leave you, he’s watching over you, from wherever he is. And you can see him when you look up at the stars at night. There’ll be one that’s brighter than the rest, that looks like it’s winking down at you, just you, watching over you. And that’ll be him.’
‘Really?’ she asked, turning over to look up at me with those wide, innocent eyes.
‘Really,’ I confirmed with a nod.
‘’S’okay to be sad still?’
‘Sometimes. But I think we should try not to be. He’d like it better if we’re happy, if we remember the good things.’
‘Like tic’le wars?’ she asked, perking up significantly.
‘Just like tickle wars,’ I agreed, reaching out a hand to tickle her without warning, sending her into a fit of giggles.
***
That night, after we’d eaten – lamb and potatoes and Yorkshire puddings like we usually have at Christmas – I hung around downstairs for a couple hours, feeling almost normal for a while.
But then, without warning, I was hit with the realisation that we were a person short, that this was the first Christmas in my life without Jai – even if it wasn’t really Christmas.
With a mumbled explanation, I excused myself, retreating to my room and pulling The Lightening Thief from its place on my bookshelf. With it in hand, I settled myself on my bed, opening it up and hoping that I could lose myself in the pages of one of my favourite stories. That, if I could, I would be able to forget anything else even existed, even if only for a little while.
Of course, living in a house full of Sharma women meant that I couldn’t get away with leaving a room looking like I’d seen a ghost without anyone coming after me.
I wasn’t even a whole chapter into the book when my door opened and my mum came in, didi, bhabhi and Zia trailing behind her. None of them said anything as they traipsed in and I didn’t say anything either. I simply took the bookmark from the back cover and slipped it into place and shut the book before setting it down.
Still without a word, the four of them came to sit on the bed with me. ‘You know it’s okay not to be okay, right?’ didi told me. ‘It’s normal. It’s perfectly normal.’
‘It doesn’t feel normal. It feels like the farthest thing from normal,’ I admitted.
‘Of course it does betta,’ ma said, running a hand over my back gently. ‘You just lost someone you love, someone you’ve known your entire life. Someone who’s just as big a part of you as your love of books or your Bollywood obsession. Something like that betta, you won’t just get over it in a day.’
‘It’s been a month!’ I protested.
‘And even a year wouldn’t be enough time,’ bhabhi countered.
‘But why? Why does it have to take so long and why does it have to hit me over and over and over again?’ I demanded, feeling the tears building up and spilling over again. ‘I thought, after a month in the hospital, I thought I’d had enough time to process enough that it wouldn’t keep hitting me. But all day, it’s kept coming up on me, crashing over me.’
‘A month in the hospital, yeah. But did you give yourself even a week to process before you decided to push aside your own feelings to be there for everyone else?’ bhabhi questioned, raising her eyebrows. When I didn’t answer, she continued. ‘No, you didn’t. You just went ahead and decided to be a complete idiot and think that you need to be the one who holds everyone up even though, right now, we should be there for you just as much – more in fact. You
lost your best friend, the guy who’s always balanced you out. It’s okay to need to lean on someone.’
‘And that’s what we’re here for, whenever you need us,’ di put in.
‘Just, remember that you’re not alone. We’re all here. We all love you. And we loved – love – Jai too you know. If there’s anyone who knows what you’re feeling right now, it’s us. Maybe not exactly but still. Don’t forget that,’ ma added.
I couldn’t find words, just smiled tearfully at them, sniffling a little as they engulfed me in a hug.
‘Wanna see somefink cool?’ Zia asked as we all pulled out of the hug.
‘Sure,’ I agreed. She got off the bed quickly and headed for the light switch by the door, bending down and flipping the switch on the plug socket before quickly hitting the lights.
Rushing back over, she jumped onto the bed and lay down across all four of us, looking up at the fairy lights that had been strung up around the ceiling, hidden from view until they were switched on. ‘Aren’t fey bootiful?’
‘Yeah Zi, yeah they are.’
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The year that followed was one of the most difficult years of my life. For the first few months, I couldn’t be convinced to leave the house for anything besides my regular check-ups. Hell, I hardly even dragged my ass out of bed for anything but tea the first couple weeks, barely even touching the food that everyone took turns bringing me.
Thankfully, my family didn’t push too hard to get me out of the house. They dragged me on a walk a couple times a week so that I wouldn’t end up losing the use of my legs but, other than that and forcing me to come eat after the first couple weeks, they left me to my own devices. They knew that I’d more easily find solace with my oldest and dearest friends between the pages of my books than out in the real world.
Eventually though, I started to fall back into a somewhat normal routine, willingly getting out of bed most mornings, leaving the house more and more often, starting with dropping Zia off to playgroup. By the time she got around to starting foundation in September, I was even getting to be okay with talking about Jai.
It was March before I managed to make myself go to the cemetery, only able to get myself to go when his birthday rolled around. I spent more than an hour sitting there, not saying a thing before eventually I left with nothing more than a whispered, ‘happy birthday Jai-Jai.’ It’d hurt like hell, which I’d fully expected, but it’d also been the kick in the backside I’d needed to get on the road back to normal.
It sure as hell wasn’t an easy road though; as far from it as you can get in fact.
If you’ve never lost someone you love, there’s no way for me to explain what it’s like. There’s no telling how long it’ll take to feel anywhere near normal again, to not feel their absence constantly, to be able to think of them and smile instead of feeling tears prick at your eyes.
But, eventually, it gets better. You don’t even notice it ant then, one day, you’ll hear their name and realise you’ve gone a day or two or maybe even a full week without thinking about them. And, for a second, you’ll feel guilty until you realise that it’s not really a bad thing. It doesn’t mean you’re forgetting them, just that you’re getting past the hardest part.
I’m not sure when it happened to me if I’m honest. For the longest time, I couldn’t think about much other than Jai, no matter how much I tried, only ever finding any kind of peace when I had my head buried in a book. And, I won’t lie, it hurt like hell.
Because of that, because I couldn’t handle how much it hurt, I’d often force myself not to indulge in them and shut off, either by completely closing myself off to emotions or losing myself between the pages of a novel – more often than not, a fantasy book; the furthest possible thing from reality.
But, after I finally forced myself to visit him at the cemetery, I made the decision that, no matter how much it hurt, I wouldn’t avoid the thoughts anymore. Because, really, trying not to think of the guy that was part of every single one of my most important memories was just plain stupid.
Which is why, when I went home that day, I decided to do what I hadn’t been able to face up till that point.
Given that Jai hadn’t even been twenty yet, you wouldn’t think he had too much to be sorting through. But, considering he’d been the only benefactor of his parents’ will, he’d come into a pretty sizeable inheritance when Ryan uncle had passed away. Everything they owned, all their savings, it had all gone to Jai; now that he was gone, that was all part of the estate he’d left behind.
Thankfully Jai had drawn up a will… one that I was the sole executor of.
It wasn’t easy to make myself go through the will but that was the easy part compared to having to actually go through all his stuff.
There wasn’t exactly a surplus of people for him to leave things to so there wasn’t all that much to sort out where paperwork and bank accounts were concerned. But, given that majority of his estate had been left to me, I had to decide what to do with his possessions.
Cleaning out his house had taken the better part of a year. For the first couple months, I could hardly spend more than an hour and a half a day in the house before it all became too much and I had to get out before I drowned in emotions.
Slowly but surely, I managed to get more and more done in a day. In a way, once I got past the not being able to look at anything without wanting to cry phase, it helped, gave me something to focus on. And, even though literally everything in that house had a memory attached, somewhere along the way I went from wanting to cry over them to catching myself off guard, laughing at them.
But the thing that helped the most was something I found when I was doing my final clear-out.
It’d been exactly a year since my operation, a year since Jai’s passed and, while I wasn’t having the easiest time dealing with that, I’d found myself going over to his house anyway, mostly on auto-pilot.
I walked through the rooms, looking through the drawers and cupboards to make sure there wasn’t something I’d missed somehow, before making my way to the one room I hadn’t yet had the courage to tackle.
Over the nearly nine months I’d been going through the house, I’d been through each room systematically, sorting through everything, deciding what was important and what probably wasn’t needed. I had no idea what I was going to do with the house at that point but I figured I should at least sort through it all.
But the one room I hadn’t been able to make myself face was Jai’s art room.
The room had been his dad’s study once but, when Jai had started to work on bigger and bigger projects, ones where the mess from the paint couldn’t be confined to sheets of newspaper tucked underneath the canvas, he’d cleaned the room out, getting rid of the oversized desk and leather chair, turning the whole space into a room filled with pretty much any and every type of art supplies you could think of – and a fair amount of writing equipment too.
I’d put it off as long as possible but, with nothing else left to do, there were no other options. So, I pulled myself together and faced it.
There was hardly anything different in the room from the last time I’d been in it. There was paint tubes on the desk, brushes sat in their place, organised by size, softness and handle length. There were sketchbooks on the shelves, sitting next to the countless notebooks that held all the ideas Jai’s overactive brain was constantly spitting out. A million pieces of paper were tacked to the wall, half-finished sketches and lists of things to be done and bought, hardly visible between the large canvases leaning against the walls, canvases with unfinished paintings.
I looked around the room, noticing the layer of dust that coated everything, and my heart felt heavier than it had in months.
This room was full of unfulfilled potential, of talent that had never got the chance to grow. The saddest part wasn’t just that the paintings would be left unfinished; it was that, even though he was amazing at pretty much all things creative, he’d never believed i
n himself enough to turn it into something more. The closest he’d ever come to it was the one time he’d told me that he wanted to write a book.
I’d hoped that maybe that meant he’d come to realise that he could seriously do something with his talents, make a way in life using them, but that chance had disappeared before if ever became more than a thought in my head, let alone an idea in his.
But the thing that really hit me wasn’t all the artwork that was yet to be completed or the lost potential but the scrapbook sat on the desk beside the tubes of paint. I’d all but forgotten about the scrapbook we’d been making as we’d ticking things off the bucket list until I saw it sitting there. Jai must’ve taken it to add some pictures in or something and it’d been there ever since, as forgotten as the bucket list itself.
I picked it up and opened it, smiling as I looked through the first few pages, paying more attention to the memories the pictures brought back than the pictures themselves until I came across something I didn’t recognise.
There was a page that’d clearly been pulled from Jai’s pocket sketchbook whit an outline sketch of the two of us by the big tree at the back of the garden, kissing in the rain. I realised he must’ve drawn it to make up for the fact that we hadn’t been able to take a picture of that moment.
I lingered on the page a minute before flicking through some more pages, feeling tears build in my eyes on seeing the way he’d so carefully arranged the pictures, fitting in sketches and line drawings that he’d done alongside them. He’d decorated the pages with doodles and little captions and comments, all of them so clearly reflecting Jai’s personality.
I didn’t stop turning pages until I came across a page that had no pictures, just words.
The Plan is to not have a plan
was written across the middle of the page, with the things we’d already ticked off the list scrawled on little pieces of coloured paper stuck in the spaces around it.
Have a Heart Page 21
