Our Last Night

April 18, 2022 Opinion

***This is dedicated to a dear friend who passed on years ago at around this time. I think about her less often now, but remember her always, Diane… this is for you ***

In remembrance of a friend who went too soon, so soon there was little time to grieve. This is a recount of my friend and I’s last night together, in an unlikely place, so different from what we were accustomed to.

I rushed to the 3rd floor of the hospital, losing my breath upon reaching the top, not stopping to take a rest but swore to cut down on cancer sticks soon.

I almost ran to her room, but was discreet enough not to disturb people sleeping in the hallway, well it was almost 1 am and even watchers needed rest I said.

I will not forget what came afterward, the glare of the hospital lights and the smell of disinfectant in the room she shared with about six other
deathly ill patients. I scanned the room and set my eyes on her bed… it was empty.

Everything came in slow motion after that, I mustered the courage to ask the nurse where she was, it took 10 seconds for her to reply.

Then I knew. Maybe my voice failed me because the face of the nurse told me the answer, she was young and probably an intern of sorts, I saw her eyes kind of roll, as if remembering a standard operating procedure when faced in delivering sad news. Her voice failed her too, she gestured something as and I jumped to ask what time Dianne died, to make it easier for both of us.

I asked her where Dianne was and she said at the basement morgue, answering quicker this time, maybe it was easier to direct people to the morgue rather than telling them they passed.

I think I even smiled and thanked her and went out of the room, rushing to the morgue but at the same time thinking, why?? She’s dead anyway.

I couldn’t cry, there were too many important things to do.

While rushing to the morgue I remember making a text advisory to be sent, I wanted everyone to know she passed, she was other people’s friend or maybe I just wanted someone to share my grief.

I still didn’t cry. I reached the morgue and coaxed security to let me in, I thought I had to see her but at the back of my mind said I was watching too much CSI reruns. The security guard relented after some coaxing, as if he was used to these scenes, he opened the door and she was the only one there, nametag and all.

It wasn’t like the CSI episodes I watched, she, Dianne, my friend, was wrapped in a blanket, covered and still. The morgue wasn’t cold and I didn’t know what to do, I think I prayed a bit, but was too nervous to finish the plea for God to save her soul.

I expected myself to cry, but as I was about to, the security guard told me he had to close the morgue and I should leave, so I left, thanking him again and smiling, it was surreal. I didn’t cry for a week and worried my heart was made of stone. Waiting for the week to pass, finally, the drama of death was about to be over, it was funeral time.

I listened as people spoke about her and was kind of laughing in my mind thinking “Nah, she wasn’t like that?” the way we used to laugh at people eulogizing the dead.

We laughed most of the time we were together, laughing so loud we had to be “shhhhed” and laughing even harder. We also loved to sit and
talk, drink and talk, laugh and talk, cry and talk… we were good friends I realized. Then it came… the tears I was waiting for flowed.

I cried, whimpered and had to be held by an acquaintance, what kind of shmuck would go to a funeral alone I thought in the midst of my wailing. My heart wasn’t made of stone after all and I didn’t stop watching CSI, I just miss my friend at the oddest of times. Like now.