[short] for granted

♕

"You know every night when we stop talking, one of us could die and it could be the last words we ever to say each other." My little sister said as I tucked her to bed, "We should always leave on good terms."

"You're absolutely right." I smiled, not thinking too much about it since Emily is probably going through one of those teenager phases. I gave her a tight embrace, suspecting that perhaps she had a rough day at school again.

"Thank you for the hug, it's just what I needed," Emily whispered as she held onto me tighter than usual.

"Heeeeeeere's Candy!" I teased, toying around with her favorite stuffed animal while she giggled sweetly. Finally, I placed the pink unicorn into her arms. "I love you, Emily."

"I love you too, big brother."

And those words were her last before she died the next day.

You might be wondering what happened? 

How? 

Why?

I honestly don't know either. And I hate myself for that every single time I think about her. I thought I understood Emily the most. I thought that she would tell me about her depression. I thought she would tell me that she had been self-harming for a couple of months. I thought she would open up to me and confess everything.

I thought she would tell me that after I left that night, she decided to swallow dozen of pills and slept forever.

But in the end, it was my fault for not saying anything and making pointless assumptions that Emily would make the talk first.

I didn't take the initiative and paid the price.

Two years have passed since that tragic night.

I am barely managing on my own. The highlight of my life is now forever gone. Ever since that day, I stopped caring much for myself. My friends told me I had become a "different" person. 

Not only that, Mom and Dad are fighting more than ever now. They are finalizing their divorce by the end of next month. Emily's death had affected everyone in the family.

Looking back, there were obvious signs that Emily was struggling.

How she always locked herself in her room right after school ends. How she started to eat little to none ever during dinners. How she started isolating herself from our weekly family events.

We all thought that it was some part of some teenage phase that normal girls go through. Being thirteen, it was reasonable to assume that Emily would be more emotional at this stage in life.

There was this one time when I barged in on her to ask if she wanted anything from the grocery store. To my surprise, I discovered she had a razor in her hand.

"What are you doing Emily?" I asked with a serious look.

"Nothing, big brother." She smiled and replied casually, "I was just going to shave my legs."

Strangely enough, I believed her. Or maybe it was that I wanted to believe her. I remember wanting to say something back then but I did not know how. I ran away from the truth and accept the lie that she had created for me.

People tend to do this, we try to rationalize a situation instead of recognizing irrational behavior when we don't want to accept in the slim possibility of it being true. We end up rejecting what we don't want to believe in. This is denial.

I was in denial. And this was what kept me from being able to save her, because I ignored all her subtle signs that called for help through reasoning. I couldn't accept the reality, and the pain she was going through. I didn't want it to be true.

Depression is a very serious mental health condition and should not be taken lightly. This is why I decided that I am going to become a clinical psychologist. I will make sure other families and their children get the proper treatment they need so they do not ever have to feel the pain of losing a loved one. It's a form of petty justification, but it's enough to keep me going. It's probably the only one.

It was quite obvious that we had taken Emily for granted. Mom took her for granted. Dad took her for granted. I took her for granted, thinking that she will always be here.

Perhaps if I said something back then, this wouldn't have happened. Maybe Emily would still be here, smiling and laughing alongside with me. And I would be helping her prepare for college. 

Wouldn't that be something?

"But nothing can change that now." I smiled bitterly as I laid down her favorite bouquet of flowers on her grave, "Happy 15th birthday, Emily. I hope you are doing well up there." I paused. "I miss you very much and I'll be back again next year."

I took out my pocket watch that she had gotten me for my 18th birthday. There was a picture beside the clock. It was a small portrait of us two, smiling innocently and joyfully in our animal pajamas on Christmas Eve with presents in our hand.

"I love you, Emily," I whispered, making sure the last words I say to my dear sister was and will always be a pleasant one.