Blurr (Most Honest I Can Get)

I lifted myself out of bed with a sense of euphoria. My new room-mates greeted me, so I reciprocated. My eyes not yet fully open and my legs not fully awake, I staggered to the bathroom and saw my suitemates doing the same as I. We explored each others’ faces and bodies, patiently waiting for the other to welcome. I nodded my head acceptingly and turned to the mirror. I observed how my eyeliner spread out to the corners of my eyes. Quickly, I splashed water on my face and ran back into my room to check my emails.

Open Gmail. Mimifolco@gmail.com. Password? ********. One unread message. The air in the environment shifted; my heart knew something was changing and it began to beat faster and harder and more intensely. It was from my father from the previous night.

“She’s not doing well, so I am going to take care of her.
Love, Papi.”

I heard my phone vibrate. It was seven in the morning; only my mother would text me at seven in the morning. I hunted for my phone, lobbing my clothes into the air in hopes that my phone would appear. I finally found it hiding under my pillow.
One unread message. From Mom.

“Please call me.”

I followed her instructions hesitantly. She answered instantly yet with no energy.
“Hey, Mom! What’s up?” I cheerily and innocently began. When all I heard was silence, I paced just for the sake of doing it. “Mom?”
“You’re life has just changed. Pia died this morning.”

My phone slipped from my hands and crashed onto the hardwood floor. My knees collapsed, followed by the rest of my body. My tear ducts tightened and forced drops to stream down my face.

Decibels of sound came from my wailing on the floor. I laid there for an incalculable time, people who were strangers to me surrounding me. The grieving stage has begun. My mind was lost in its many thoughts: What was my father doing? How was he feeling? What were his plans? Was he there when it happened? Did anyone visit her? Was he going to move there?

I was able to laugh, yet I felt guilt after a faint giggle. I was more able to bawl than anything else. From then on, loving was a difficult concept for me. I only felt affection towards those who cared for me. I became vulnerable for fondness and tenderness. The most significant and remarkable person in my short life of 15 years was no longer able to talk or eat or laugh. She was no longer capable of love and care. She had disappeared, and there was no way to regain such an extraordinary woman.

I was in despair; nothing anyone could do helped distract me. I continued to suffer from desolation. I suffered for an entire calendar year, until July 12th hit me again. Instead of mourning as I had planned, I flew. I became the lightest I had ever been, free of the burden. I discovered who I was and how I got there. The purpose of my relationship with Pia was so that I could find myself, so that I could be comfortable with myself, and mostly, so that I could love others as she loved me.