Saudade (A Short Story)

The first time I ever attended a funeral, it was my brothers. There are some people that you think will live forever and even if the earth was reduced to ash, they would survive somehow. That’s how I saw my big brother; his existence was an entire galaxy and what could ever destroy something like that? Yet - there we were, congregated in the very home we had both grown up in. It took me two hours before I could make an appearance, it was easier sitting in my room, but the people had come. Even though crowds weren't my thing, this wasn't about me. With a racing heart and palms drenched in sweat, I glanced over the sea of faces – many I had never seen before, nor have I seen since. Black garments wrapped around robotic-like frames, embraced me one at a time accompanied by empty words.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

Of course, they were. Days, weeks, and months went by with me hearing the same sentence spat from every mouth that parted to greet me. The cold truth was that no one was sorry, they just didn’t know what else to say.

No one ever knows what to say.

When the wave of people began to make way to the burial site, I didn’t join them. Pitifully, I watched from the window whilst relatives hoisted the casket into the back of a hearse. Its glossy form in mahogany even glistened in the afternoon sun as it prepared for its final journey. Maybe I should have cried that day but between gritted teeth, I could only manage to chuckle at my failure. Staring at a now-empty driveway, I wished it was I that had died. What use was I like this to my grieving mother? What purpose did I have when I wasn’t even brave enough to leave the confines of these walls?

“Are you crying?” The sudden impact of an arm encircling my shoulder pulled me out of my thoughts. It was my brother, Hero.

“You’re heavy, man. Get off me.” I weaved my body away from his awkward embrace. Still, that didn’t stop my titan of a brother from grinning.

“Oh, come on. Who else is going to remind you that you’re the baby?” Hero placed his big hand on top of my head, something he had done since we were children. It was his way of comforting me, I know that now. He had done so on the days when I would cry after having escaped the terrible tyrants at school. Or the many times I would hurt myself trying to imitate him after I begged to play with him and his friends. When the doctors diagnosed me with this disorder that made leaving the house difficult, he had that silly grin on his face and he pat me on my head telling me that I was going to be fine. Three years later, I had only gotten worse, unable to even answer the door or pick up the phone when it rang but, Hero never lost faith in me. That fool! How I loved him.

That evening when dusk started to creep in, I gazed outside my bedroom window searching for the first star as I always did, but I met something else instead. Amongst the brush, a heart-shaped face in white seemed to stare in my direction.

“Hero, look! There’s something at the hole of that tree.” I parted my bedroom curtain further so he could examine the strange form.

“That’s just an owl. A barn owl.”

“How the hell do you know that?”

“I know a lot of things. I’m older than you after all.”

“But aren’t they... a bad omen. Not that today could get any worse.” I began to mutter but Hero just scowled at me, lifting his large frame off my bed.

“Don’t believe that crap. Maybe they're the opposite."

The opposite? Maybe he was right. Darkness fell and I listened to the sound of the night – imagining the outside world. I wondered about the peculiar bird that had perched itself right outside the hollow of a tree. Perhaps in search of solace, I deceived myself into thinking it was a sign from my dead brother. Was that bird like me? Was it afraid to leave its nest so it sat and watched the world from afar as I did? Or was it more courageous than I was? As my mind danced with the starry night the sound of whimpers made their way through the walls. My mother wept for what felt like hours and she would do so for the months that followed. It was then I made a promise that I would do my best to get better.

10 milligrams slowly morphed into 100 and 4 months later, my days were as they had always been. My mother still spent her nights crying even though on our days together all she ever did was laugh with me. Her thinning frame only looked like heartache and the brown of her eyes seemed to dull. Was I so pathetic that she couldn't even bare her true feelings to me? I didn't understand it all back then, how her mask was her way of being strong for me. I told myself to keep on fighting, for her and for Hero and so I was going to push myself even harder. I was going to answer that front door and the phone and I was going to go outside, but the reality was a lot harsher than I was strong.

The sound of crunching gravel seemed to awaken a fear within and with each passing knock or the screaming doorbell, my heart would cower behind my throat and panic would ensue. Just like that, I would be drowning in fear, panicking about who it was and what they wanted. I felt as though everyone could see me and I had nowhere to go. My space was being invaded by the entity's attempting to force their way into the only safe place I knew. It felt like I was in danger; something very bad was about to happen and I was no longer in control. It was agonizing. A terrifying pain that swallowed me whole and only after they left; only after knowing no one was outside the house did I finally begin to breathe. This thing had dictated my life for too many years and although I always felt like crying, the tears never came.

I endured the panic, nausea and the dizziness. I endured my disdain and my self-hatred and even my sorrow. For months, I swallowed the medicine meant to help me find some form of strength but every time I looked within there was none. How could I expect to go outside when I couldn't even open the door? In a moment of shattering despair and a sense of calamity, my brother Hero reminded me that he was there.

“I have an idea. I'm going to knock on the door and you're going to answer it for me.” That big grin of his seemed to never leave his face. "Don't worry, I'll be right there." That fool! Did he think I could do that just because it would be him on the other side instead of someone else?

“But, before I knock, I'll call the house and tell you that I'm outside.” He added.

Tilting my head to the ground, I couldn't tell him that even that might not be enough to help me. All I knew was that I had to try, I had to try because I wasn't alone and that was all the strength I needed. From that moment on, it became a routine that we would practice every single day. The first few times were failures and even though I wanted to throw in the towel, Hero threw his big arm around me and told me that tomorrow was another chance to try again. So, we did. We tried again and again and again, belting through failure and error but along the way I finally managed to open that door.

When I did, Hero, was not there. Instead, I was met by a light breeze and the full view of the driveway. The noise of passing cars and voices in the distance was enough to shock me and as quickly as I had opened that door, I threw it shut. In a state of disbelief, the only thing that I could think about was the simple fact that I had done it. I had managed to open the door and even though my brother had tricked me into thinking he would be there, I tried to understand why. That fool! He had never even called. Maybe he wanted to show me that it wasn’t that bad and that I would be okay. From there, a fire surged inside of me. I wanted to try again, I wanted to call my mother and tell her all about this new achievement. I wanted to punch Hero in the gut and hug him at the same time and I wanted to visit my brother’s grave. So, I kept on trying. Every day I opened that door and eventually I braved the current and started to lean into the breeze, savouring it for as long as I could muster. I took in the scent of the air and nestled in the feel of the wind on my skin. I wanted to brave the current a little more and go further out into the distance, but it would be another month before that happened.

For the first time in a long time, I was outside standing in our driveway, with the beaming sun sitting on my skin. The air was clean, light and fresher than the green leaves that decorated the trees around. I took in the feel of the gravel beneath my feet. The crunching groans that leaped around me with each step and the faint musings leaving the mouths of children and adults frolicking under the same sky. This was what it felt like being outside, it was warm and freeing. Maybe I could be like the very birds that seemed to own the sky. Could I spread my wings and go anywhere I wanted? Could I really do it? I told myself I would stay out for as long as I could to meet my mother upon her return. Without her knowledge, I had been working up towards this very moment but eventually, the bustling sounds of life seemed too much for me and I retreated back to my familiar confines. There was some disappointment in that but it was okay not to overwhelm myself. I had been doing the best that I could, practising each day with Hero by my side. Now, I wanted to share this moment with my mother by surprising her. When I heard the crunching gravel, I slowly strolled outside, meeting her as she had just opened her car door. Our eyes locked and the range of emotions that painted her face were many. Confusion. Concern. Cheerful.

The next thing I heard was a loud shriek and before I knew it, her arms were enveloped around me. She wept in my arms, and I laughed at the fortune that seemed to make its way into our life. I was...happy? I think I actually felt happy. Happy that for a brief moment her tears weren't filled with grief and pain and happy that I could share this with her. It felt like I could do it.

It felt like in life, no matter what you go through - it's possible to be okay.

Through the wear and tear that comes with life, we rise up once more, bracing ourselves for whatever barrage may come our way. We do so with our heads held high and we do it knowing that we will break but the battle is worth it. Maybe they will make for great stories. I suppose, I tried to look at the world with that thought in mind and I pondered over it as I found myself standing at my brothers resting place. Although I still had trouble going anywhere alone and I never answered the phone, it didn't change the fact that I was there. I stood before him, searching for the words to say but they never came. Yes, no one ever knows what to say.

His tombstone was an ash gray, in granite stone. Seeing it did something to me and right there, tears began to seep out of my eyes. I touched my face to confirm what I felt, I was almost surprised. You fool! How could you die on me like this! It was the very first time that I had cried since he had died, and in that moment as I read the words on his tombstone, I accepted that my big brother was gone. Hero, was dead.

Hero,

a brother, a son and a friend.

You will always be our star, as you were yesterday, today and in the end.

I sobbed – I sobbed heavily at the truth that had always been there but a truth I refused to accept. Hero was dead all along and for some reason, I pretended to see him because I couldn't let go. It was selfish, I know it was but the fear of his loss meant the reality of being alone. A reality I couldn't bare. So, I lied to myself, and I had conversations with him just like I had always done. I talked to my brother everyday and he was the light I followed to get better because he would have never left me alone unless he knew I was going to be okay. Hero was gone physically but his energy seemed to emanate all around me. Even in that moment as the tears gushed from my eyes and my chest heaved with anguish, he was there. It felt like a year’s worth of tears seemed to flood my eyes but for the first time, I felt like I could mourn my big brother. With my knees buried in the dirt and my hands cradling my head, I wept for him. I had never known a pain like this and it ate away at my very bones. So, I let myself cry. I cried all the pain out and all the anger that I had kept buried inside. I cried because I would always miss him and things would never be the same but that didn't mean that they wouldn't be okay.

As my mother and I prepared to leave Hero's grave site, she pointed in the direction of an owl that was sitting in one of the trees in the distance. Could it have been the same one that I had seen many months ago outside my own window? Perhaps it had managed to leave its confines too just like I had done. I wondered in awe, thinking of how familiar it felt as a sense of calm flooded my entire being and I knew that I would be alone.

“That’s a barn owl.” I finally managed to say.

“How the hell do you know that?” My mother quipped.

“It’s something Hero told me.”

- Joy