I remember.

I remember it all.

Too well, in fact. I remember my little cousins calling me off of the volleyball court, saying that our aunt was about to pick me up. I remember being afraid to leave them there by themselves with only my cell phone to call their mom. I remember getting into the backseat of my aunt’s car, looking over at my other cousin in the backseat, face covered in tears. Uncontrollable tears of my own before I had even heard anything specific. Rushing into the hospital. Wandering halls that smelled wrong; too sterile. Stumbling upon a crowd of people in the hall, signaling that we had found your room. Everyone was taking turns, because there was a limit on how many people were allowed in the room, or there just wasn’t enough space, or they just couldn’t bear to be there and see you that way for too long. We were all so scared. But it wasn’t so bad, because even though you looked scarily small and pale, the nurse told us that your recent coma was a “restorative sleep”.

I should have know better.

Shuffling in and out, between your room and the nearby lounge with small tables and cartoons on the television and coloring books, because it was the kids’ ward, after all. Someone thought to get a bunch of stuff from KFC, because there were a lot of people, and none of us were leaving anytime soon. We were in it for the long haul.

So we thought.

A door slamming open and a scream. That was all that I needed to hear. I couldn’t. I knew what had happened. Wandering hallways, lost. I stumbled upon a deserted nurses’ station, but decided that the floor opposite it, next to the gurney, was more appropriate.

Down.

Hugging knees, because that was all I had left.

Because you were gone, in a heartbeat.

Or lack thereof.

And then I heard someone else sniffling. It’s a wonder that I heard anything over the sounds in my head. Internally screaming, pleading, rationalizing, hoping. Nose dripping sniffles and body shaking sobs. I looked up and saw my cousin. My cousins, who I love with all my heart. My cousins, who I never expected to see cry in this lifetime, who I never expected to see me cry. No words. Just sitting at the nurses’ station like three misfits, hugging each other, trying to stop.

It took a long time.

And then we wandered, because seeing any other sick person would be better than going back and seeing the sick person who we had originally come here for. We saw the newborns, distorted by my tears. She told me that they had jaundice, but I didn’t notice. I was beyond seeing.

We went back, because we didn’t want to worry anyone. We were gone for a while. The hallway was still and quiet. And then your sister found us. She told us to come with her. To say our last goodbyes. I would have only went for her. We went in, and everyone was so calm. Rational. Reasonable. Kissed you on the forehead, told you how much they loved you, said goodbye. Commented on how cold you already felt. 

I couldn’t. I couldn’t get past the doorway. I stood and watched silently. I didn’t trust my voice. All I could do was apologize over and over in my head that I couldn’t be as strong as everyone else was.

I'm so sorry.