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He looks at her sitting before him and she is sobbing. With uncontrollable heaves and streaming tears, she is falling apart before him. Never in his life has he ever seen her like this before–wanting to reach out and make it all stop, it pains him to watch her. He wasn’t sure what He--who was still downstairs and out of audible reach of her cries--had said to her, but he knew he had to do something to help fix it.

As the shuddering of her shoulders subsides and she begins to calm down, she feebly attempts to wipe away her tears before barely gazing upwards, giving him an apologetic look. She is mad at herself for doing this in of front him–she should have never allowed him to see her this way. How could she lean on him at a time like this when she should be the one protecting him?

Still confused about what had happened, he concluded that whatever it was that had happened prior to this didn’t matter–what mattered was that he needed to do something to console the one person he loved so much in front of him. Being all but six years old, he was able to respond with a gentle care much beyond his years. “Mommy, it’s okay…” he whispers with innocence. “Don’t cry. Daddy didn’t mean what he said… I know it. He was just upset, too. Please don’t cry…” She blinks up at him, wide-eyed and surprised. To see her son so concerned and affected by the tribulations of her marriage with his father left her feeling even more guilt-ridden. It both melted and broke her heart at the same time.

“I know you and Dad have your differences sometimes…” he quietly continues, “And maybe you don’t get along all too well… but… I’m here, and I love both of you, and–and I think you both still love each other somewhere deep down as well–even if it’s just a little bit.” At this point, her throat begins to tighten around large lumps and bulges of fresh tears begin to pour from her eyes again.

"… I promise I’ll ask Daddy to be nicer to you. I don’t want to see you or him like this anymore… It’s like your love is breaking, and it makes me sad… but we are still a family, so it’ll probably be okay, right?” Unable to bear anymore of his words, she grabs her son into her arms and holds him tightly. In a matter of moments, she now desired perseverance over defeat. Undoubtedly, the heart of a child can have that effect.

“You know, you’re moving pretty slowly with this.” He says matter-of-factly with an amused countenance.

She smirks without looking up from her food. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all,” he says, “I’m just surprised. Usually other girls jump at the opportunity to escalate their relationship with a decent guy they meet. But you, you’re different. I think I quite like that.”

Her heart jumps a little at his last statement. He was never one to be forward with his affections towards her–so whenever he slipped compliments like this with subtlety, it never ceased to catch her off guard. She smiles to herself and lets a silent pause ensue as she continues to pick at her salad.

“Are you calling yourself a decent guy then?” She teases him.

His eyes narrow at her the same way they always do whenever she surprises him with her wit. He laughs, “You know what I mean.”

He was right–she knew far too well what he was talking about. In fact, there was a point in her life when she used to be like those “other girls” he spoke of. But that was a time in the past, and she had learned her lesson since then.

It surprised her how soon after her last relationship she was able to meet someone else she could have feelings for again. Frankly, it had only been a couple months time between the breakup and the first time she met the very man sitting in front of her.

The breakup… With chagrin, she remembers the former state she was in when her last relationship came to an end: devastation, partial heartbreak, the utter disappointment in herself for giving her all into another failing illusion of “something serious”… It had all been simply exhausting.

She stops to gaze at the man sitting across from her, who is looking away at the moment–she can’t help but feel warmth in her chest at the sight.

“How in the world did I get here?…”, she thinks to herself. “When, not that far back, I was fighting for the love of someone else?”

Thinking back on how much she had thought she loved her previous boyfriend, she begins to feel ashamed. Did she even feel as deeply as she had claimed she did? Given that she feels totally different now, was everything else before a lie? Was her love really that deceivingly shallow?

Realizing the fickleness of her feelings only intensified her sense of betrayal. It was why she acted wary and in-denial whenever a new interest in someone stirred in her–she simply could not trust her own feelings anymore. It was why time and slowness was necessary for her now: she wanted to be proven that this, whatever it was, was real; she wasn’t about to make the same mistake again of falling too hard, too fast, and too–

“Are you okay?” He is looking at her, concerned. “You’ve been awfully quiet for a while now.”

Though startled by the disruption, she is relieved to be stolen from her own thoughts and brought back to reality.

“Sorry, I guess I was just zoning out a little.”

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately. I hope it’s not because you’re rethinking the idea of bringing me home to meet your family. I mean, I know you're super serious about me and all, but spare me a little time, won’t you?”

Rolling her eyes at his sarcasm, she gives in to his dry sense of humor–he never fails to make her laugh. If there was one thing she could love him for, it would be his uncanny way of making her smile the very way she was smiling now.

Time…

I think time–with you–will be able to prove my speculations wrong. I can’t make any promises, but if you wait for me, perhaps I can begin to trust myself and these feelings again. This is something I want–no, need–to do if we want this to go somewhere, so please… just wait for me.

It was always at this odd hour of the night when he would think about his old friend. The memories of their college days together, the slight regret of drunkenly throwing up on their living room floor the last time he saw him, the wish to shoot another round of hoops with him again, and so on. It was these thoughts that made him deeply miss his friend and that made him remember that life was truly and dangerously fragile in all its form.

His best friend was not the first close person he has lost, nor will he be the last. Still, the fact that life was so easily able to take away his (of all people’s) existence from this world made him feel so small, so meaningless and even more so helpless about the fact that he couldn’t do a single thing about it.

Thinking about this, he is overwhelmed by the gravity of his thoughts, as feelings of guilt, hopelessness, longing and desperation relentlessly flood in. It feels like it was just yesterday that he witnessed his friend dying on his death bed, and reliving the emotions of it all is so bad that there are no words for it.

Not knowing what to do, he calls the one person who might be able to share some of the same feelings as his.

“Hello?…” She states his name with question, alarmed by the fact that he is calling her at such a late hour.

“Hi. Sorry… it’s just… one of those nights. I–I can’t sleep.”

Without any further explanation from him, she replies, “… I know. I miss him, too."

And with this small reciprocation, he feels a tinge of reassurance. He is not alone in this suffering or in this futile longing to see their friend again. He is reminded of the fond memories they have of him, and somehow talking about him in this light makes him feel as if he is still here. Surely, calling her was the right thing to do.

Consoled, both participants on the phone resolve to hang up before they relinquish all chances of sleep. He tosses his phone to the floor nearby and simply stares out his window towards the dark sky outside.

“The pain of losing someone you are so closely bonded to…” he thinks to himself, “is enough to kill one’s spirit. However…”

Despite losing his friend, he is blessed by the fact that there are so many treasured memories of him to recall and reminisce about with others. At the reminder of this, he is always so amazed by the impact that guy had on almost every person he ever crossed paths with. He couldn’t be more grateful to have had a best friend like him. Though some nights are definitely harder than others, he is able to move forward with the sole knowledge that God has received one of the best angels to have previously walked this Earth–and that one day, if he’s lucky, he will be able to see that smug face of his again, classically challenging him to a game of HORSE.

“Do you know what it’s like to have your pain dismissed by the one person you hold dearest to you?”

She had gotten upset at him on more than one occasion for not being understanding. After putting up a brave face to the rest of the world and turning only to him to unload all of which she could hardly bare alone, he was not nearly as sympathetic as she had hoped he would be. Not nearly as caring. Why didn’t he understand what she was going through or what she needed from him?

“I can’t understand everything that you are or have been going through. I can’t experience exactly what you experience. No one can.”

His answer, slapped with the truth, takes her by surprise but she does not disagree with it. He’s right–no one can necessarily know exactly what she has seen, felt, or thought about, even if she did try to describe it in as meticulous detail as she could.

Although she admits this, she was still deeply dissatisfied with this excuse, and it wasn’t until years later that she finally came to realize why.

It wasn’t his complete understanding of her experiences that she was asking for–it was his understanding that she was in pain. She was in pain, and she needed him to be there for her, to help her bear the burden of the sorrow she could no longer carry alone. To remind her that she in fact was not alone, nor does she have to submit herself to that kind of isolation when she was with him.

But he never understood how much pain she was in, or how much she needed to find comfort in someone--more specifically him. The hurt she felt after this sort of dismissal would tug on her half-broken heart for years following, and it was this negligence that drove a wedge of persistent loneliness into her mind.

It was what made her realize that she could not be with someone who made her feel more alone than she already was. Having her pain dismissed by someone who purportedly loved her blurred the definition of “love” for her until she no longer knew what the word truly meant.