Death becomes him...then her. in It's Art, You Wouldn't Understand

I recently finished a beautiful anime called Natsuyuki Rendezvous. Silly me, I thought it would be funny…and parts of it was but I cried during every episode. It was written so well and I couldn’t help but reflect on my own love and marriage. I binged watched it and slowly became undone as the story progressed. There was some small laughs in between and I soon found myself unsure on who to root for. It was so hard.

When it was over I was a sobbing mess. Chu had to come and hold me for 20 mins so I could calm down. In the flurry of kisses I rained down on his face and neck I vowed that we’ll always be together, even when we weren’t. I didn’t think it was too clique at the time, because so far it has always been my reality. Since I was 15 years old, I’ve carried him with me every where I went…and what a journey its been.

After that final episode, I was left with a broken heart, hope and tears streaks down my cheeks. I drank two glasses of water and took a shower. I cried even harder under the spray, blowing my nose in my hand and letting the water wash over me.

That night, when sleep came I had nightmares that all centered around losing him. How unfair, I thought. The one that was most vivid was when I was asked to identify his body in the morgue. They were right in the middle of his autopsy and his feet were facing me. My scream was silent at first and then a terror I never known before gripped my throat so hard I wanted to vomit. I fell to my knees, clutching my sides hard, I was falling apart. What my hands couldn’t hold was fading away and I just remember my eyes burning with a heat I didn’t know existed. The staff all circled me and I begin to gnash my teeth and tear away at my arms. It was this strange transformation and I could see myself from outside. Screaming like a banshee, ripping my own flesh away just at the sight of my lover’s feet. It was all too much and I heard over my own shrills of grief that they had planned to put me under. A tiny part of my brain was thankful, I was bleeding profusely from my own nails and my mouth still hadn’t close. I couldn’t breathe but the screams kept coming, my eyes unblinking. I couldn’t not see him but I didn’t want to. He was mine and he was gone and I shattered.

I remember them grabbing me, men trying to restrain me so they could give me the shot. My body was giving me all these flashing, red warnings. I needed to breathe, I needed to blink, I needed to stop bleeding and yet, it was like my soul was trying to rip itself out of this bone encased prison and fuck did it hurt. I couldn’t stop if I tried. I was trapped between to worlds.

I just wanted to be with him and one bloody hand started to reach. I jerked forward, slipping on my own crimson puddle before I woke up. Chu wasn’t next to me and I felt this relief wash over me with the knowledge he was at work, and that I’ll see him in a few hours. Still, a heavy sense of loneliness settled over me and I stayed up to watch the sun rise. I fell asleep a short time later, his side was still empty. I called for him from upstairs. Nothing. I called out again, a little bit more desperate and waited longer. I heard his gruff answer and let out a shaky breath. Everything was fine, he was here and safe and I’ve been trying to shake this haunting feeling ever since.

Now, with the most of my feels behind me, I can appreciate the beauty of it all. They story was wonderful and I didn’t have any idea that it would have such a profound effect on me. Yet, I hug him just a little tighter, and I caress his skin longer. He laughs at my added attention but seems grateful for it just the same. I told him art has a way of changing everything at any time. What a curse. What a blessing.

I know they’ll be a day when he does leave me, or I him. I can only ask God that it be peaceful and that we’ll only be separated for a bit. That the one left behind will smile and laugh again. Maybe we’ll go together? I wonder if it will hurt? Will my eyes be open? Will the sun warm my corpse or will the moon shine over my bones? Will I have a chance to say my last words?

I guess it doesn’t matter. None of it does. I feel weirdly disconnected when I think about my own death. The moment itself won’t be long at all. Not in the grand scheme of things so it really doesn’t make a difference.

Why even wonder.