"Guys, this is gonna be the most thorny topic to broach..."
Yet again, a gauzy mist lingered as a riotous crowd of emotions crammed into my tiny brain.
I let the buckets of warm tears fall like stones from my big, blue eyes and allowed myself to sob incessantly, in an unbridled fashion.
I was a 20-year-old YouTuber surviving, or struggling to plow on, in this vale of tears with the COVID-19 conundrum, operating a channel boasting over 600,000 subscribers and became somewhat well-heeled.
Be that as it may, this didn't mean anything. Nothing at all. It was of no avail, of no consequence to anyone.
My brain kind of galvanised me to look to the family photo that had been on the spotless wall of my bedroom. "That's me, Nicole and Edward, and..."
Whenever I saw him, I would bawl my eyes out, not owing to how he played fast and loose with me, but rather how he saved me, comforted and assuaged me in every way he could.
I lay on the bed with that wondrous coverlet. On the bedspread lay an angel that...
In my boiling tears, I revisited that indelible mark -- He lying in front of me as I held his pale hands...
"Boy and girls! May I introduce to you your new classmate, Victoria!"
My grade 9 class teacher ushered in a new day as I, as a newcomer and novice (as far as matters of my new school in Texas was concerned), entered the classroom gingerly.
"Hello!" My new classmates gave me this reassuring greeting.
School wasn't a refuge from the unrelenting monsters for me. I was constantly chased after by my English and French teachers for being half-hearted, however weary I was.
Regardless, I did get to know a ton of bosom buddies with whom I befriended right after the class, given I liked to network a lot.
During lunch breaks, there would always be a group, or a coterie, I could say, of boys sitting at the table next to us. I had longed to find male friends, but I was caught in a dilemma given I had dated a few boys before, and our relationships all culminated in tear-jerking breakups that mutilated and stabbed me.
It was noteworthy that boys in that group would always wink at us (or sometimes directly at me). Most notably, Sean, a really sporty, companionable and energetic guy.
One Friday, when we girls were bragging about how we were planning to make the most of our weekend, I noticed a really tall boy that towered above everyone else in their group. He had been with them, but he was well-nigh unnoticeable.
I couldn't take my gaze off him. His long face, lean body, and black-rimmed glasses...He looked particularly attractive with his glasses...
"Hey! Who're you looking at? Am I not the most handsome guy?" Sean boasted.
I was caught off-guard. The boy appeared befuddled. I pointed to him and claimed, "He's super cute."
"Haha," He laughed, "No way." He whispered to me, "He's gay."
The boy suddenly stared at him. It was like an epiphany for either of them.
I was thunderstruck. "Seriously?" I muttered under my breath.
My home was just a stone's throw away and I would always walk home, mostly alone.
Just as I sighed and frowned at the thought of having to clear that backlog of English homework, someone shouted from behind.
"Hey!"
I turned around as I saw him panting.
"Oh hello!" I said enthusiastically, surprised.
"I'm Landon Jackson. Were you trying to ask me something at lunch?" He said.
It was the boy whom I couldn't take my eyes off.
"Oh no." I reassured him. "I just noticed that you've been with that group of boys who would always sit next to us during lunch breaks."
"Yeah." He answered.
"I was thinking...um..." I was thinking how I should call him.
"Landon. Just call me Landon."
"Landon, I just found you absolutely cute." I couldn't hold my water.
"Oh," he blushed, "No, I'm not, honestly. And I want to make sure you know I'm not gay. Sean was just joking."
"It's ok. I know you aren't gay."I again reassured him as he gave me a bashful smile.
I couldn't help but compliment on that. His dimples really adored his already handsome appearance as well as flawless and white complexion.
Our eyes met as he grinned at me.
"By the way, who are you? And which grade are you in?" He asked.
It turned out that both of us were in grade 9, although he was a few months older than me.
Not only did we exchange our phone numbers, we also learned that we lived just a few blocks apart.
That was how we became bosom buddies instantly as we took to walking home together every day.
Gazing at him when he was concentrated on his assignments or writing essays, I felt there was a string tying me to him. Epiphany had it that I was infatuated with him.
We would always be seen spending time together in school, although that sparked some tongues-wagging.
He became my English tutor, given we complemented each other academically. I was terrible with languages while he needed assistance in science.
He would always tell me, "Do you know that inexhaustible patience is a pearl of great price? You need to be mettlesome enough to clear your hurdles because grasping language skills is never a piece of cake. I too struggled at first until I learned to be patient."
He never minded helping me laboriously. Perhaps that was what made me feel he was the right person to start a serious relationship with.
And yes, I saw myself improving in languages with his assistance. From getting Cs and Ds to getting Bs.
We grew from being inseparable bosom buddies to confidants. We would always snuggle under a warm bedsheet at Landon's place to watch movies and chat on weekends.
God knew what I wanted for my 16th birthday: Landon and I got into the same high school in Texas.
An enormous Christmas Party was the tradition of my new high school as students from all grades would converge on the playground and then the school hall, attending a massive Christmas party that encompassed shining confetti, delectable food and such. Christmas... I wouldn't describe it as dull or electrifying, just something ordinary.
After the party, and Landon was a man of his word, waiting for me outside the school. He beckoned me over. I followed him and jumped into his car as usual as he would always drive me to my place. But this time, "Do you think you could spend the evening with me at my place?" He asked.
I was thinking.
"Come on, it's Christmas eve."
"Fine, I know you'll be bored. Let's go then!" I accepted his request.
At his huge place, following dinner, he beckoned me to his bedroom. He was a studious boy, to be deadly earnest. He excelled academically and would always prioritise his English homework and essays, but was never adept at sports. I never minded this, as he'd taught me so much, I literally owed him a debt of gratitude.
I studied his tall bookshelf with awe, my mouth agape, as there were so many thick and weighty tomes on it.
"You wanna check out one of them? They're a repository of knowledge!" He enthused.
"By the way..." He held my hands and handed me a present. "Merry Christmas!" He said.
"Can I call you my boyfriend now, officially?" I chuckled.
"I love you to the moon and back, Victoria." He said as he gave me a warm, bear bug, as if he was trying to make it up to me after that brief hug in school.
"Same." I said as he hugged me tight and kissed me on my forehead.
Hugging me was a magnet which I had been attracted to ever since I first went in contact with it. I had fallen head over heels with him ever since we met for the very first time in school.
Immediately after reaching the lawn with the sun setting, we couldn't help but share our first, also the most passionate kiss as we hugged so tightly...
He even invited me to stay for a sleepover after treating me to a warm bath.
Back in his bedroom, I couldn't help but lock the door, pull him onto the bed and kiss him...
On the first day of March next year, I woke up feeling dizzy and nauseous. Just as I entered the bathroom to get ready for school, I stooped over the toilet and threw up.
My mom found it disquieting and asked if I was ok. "I was sick as a dog." I told her. But I insisted on going to school as I didn't want to miss my favourite science class.
In the afternoon, with my parents gone, I invited Landon over and decided to take a pregnancy test as I explained to him what happened.
My heart was pumping really fast as I wasn't plucky enough to see the result.
I opened half an eye and couldn't help but bat my eyelid.
"Landon, I'm really sorry, but...I just found out that I'm pregnant." Was this a foregone conclusion?
Landon's mouth was agape, his shock writ large, manifestly befuddled.
Stinging tears and gooey snot oozed out of my nostrils as I knelt and sobbed from the top of my lungs...
He embraced me right away, pretty tightly, knowing I, too, was edgy.
The only words he uttered were truly unexpected. "I'll stay with you through thick and thin, however strong the storm brewing out there is going to punch us."
Yet, I hadn't a clue someone went even further down the abyss, marooned.
Landon still went to school even though I was pregnant. He was compelled to clear all manner of hurdles and roadblocks for me, however formidable they might have been. I, meantime, had been suspended from school until I gave birth.
Despite juggling schoolwork with house chores, Landon never bickered with me, never complained of the pain with admirable stoicism as he insisted on helping me with everything demanding even though his mind was riddled with wounds that would never heal.
The unending cramps were ineluctably the concomitant of pregnancy and childbirth. I could still recall the terrifying moments in September 2018...
"Ahh!!!..."
As if the end of that black, ironically elastic tunnel inside my body was the maw of a monster, Edward clung onto my uterus, refusing to be dragooned into braving a safe, fresh world.
"Help!!" It was a ceaseless struggle as I shivered at the sight of that crimson stream.
I could feel every organ inside my sophisticated body was going to come out with that force.
Tears, coupled with incessant and thunderous screams as well as how my "killing machine" compressed every inch of his hand, however, didn't stop Landon from loving and caring for me. Throughout that tormenting 15 hours of childbirth (the longest I've ever gone through), he held my hands, never left the delivery room albeit not knowing the first thing about childbirth and how long it was going to take, until the very moment when Edward started clamouring for attention upon braving a new world.
It was Landon who would always dab at my eyes with a tissue, wiping away my tears whenever I felt trapped.
I was grateful for both my and his parents because they were both supportive of us. They never spanked us like a child, never slammed us for that pregnancy.
I could still smell the horrifying smell of blood that signalled the birth of our bundle of joy.
"Muah!" He kissed me on my cheeks submerged under tears and sweat. "Are you OK?" He asked caringly as the nurses were busy cutting the umbilical cord. I was taken aback by his undying care and love. As distinct from how men would usually run to the baby and ignore the "machine" that gave birth, he treated me like a princess.
While I was consumed by pain, he gave me a huge hug regardless. I then spotted the little cuts on his palms.
"Oh sorry, Landon!" I apologised as I realised I had injured him when I squeezed his big, warm hands during childbirth.
He glanced at them and kindly allayed my fears, "No, I'm fine. Don't worry about me."
The days after childbirth, and I would always be waiting for him to come home from school in the afternoon.
Slowly opening the door to our bedroom was a giant, a selfless giant I should say, who would always smile at us, showering us with love, for as much as we needed.
"You're so tall!" I would say as he would enter our bedroom, eager to meet his baby after coming home from school.
He would always hum a soothing song as Edward would take a nap in somnolent afternoons.
His tall silhouette truly illustrated how kind and protective of a father he was.
I still remembered clearly what Landon often reiterated, "Age doesn't matter." Yes, age never mattered. We both were 16 when we had our first boy, Edward, rather inadvertently.
Some of his and my acquaintances gave us a wide berth awhile because they excoriated us as immature.
Tears would invariably stream down my cheeks upon hearing despicable and snide comments.
But it was Landon who empowered me to plow on. He would always say, "Things don't always go the way we want them to." His resolve and mettle were equally awe-inspiring.
The month after I gave birth to Edward, he was invariably the one holding the torch of courage and hope up high, shielding me from peril that lay ahead of us. Inevitably, there were nights when we struggled to put Edward to sleep because he would keep crying until midnight, perhaps jealous of our much-strained relationship.
I relished seeing him feed Edward gently. He would invariably beam, as if telling both me and his baby that he would stay with us forever, accompanying us.
Never knowing my sobbing or weeping added insult to Landon's injury, I never sought to control the unfettered flow of my tears and emotions. Landon, though, maintained his amicable manner and hugged me constantly to ensure I was doing fine, albeit exhausted through and through.
"Look, how adorbs he is!" He would always say to me, "I know you must be exhausted, but just...try to view things from different perspectives. Like, it may be exhausting, but hasn't it been rewarding?"
Time ticked by apace and two years later, we celebrated the 2nd birthday of our precious Edward. So ecstatic was he that he clambered onto our dining table (with my assistance, of course) to try to get his hands on the cake that Landon baked him. We then sang happy birthday to him as he blew the candles and we shared the cake together. We both had a soft spot for babies. At that moment, we had an epiphany: The untoward pregnancy two years ago was worth it.
And prior to this, we had already spent three Valentines brimful of gaiety and certainly, love. He would always splurge on presents for me because we truly loved each other. Although I was chuffed every Valentines because we got to kiss, hug and do whatever we hankered after to our hearts' content, I never got to tell him it was his presence and unfaltering support that truly counted.
Landon was multitalented: Not only was he a born cook, but he was also an adept writer who never gave up on his dream of becoming a renowned writer and journalist with his insatiable desire and curiosity. It was he who helped me smash my fear of writing and reading as I often flunked English tests whereas he kept science at arm's length.
Yes, history did repeat itself. Oblivious to the snags that would consume us in the future, we decided to get hitched. He popped the question on our fourth Valentines and we got hitched months later on a romantic beach. We also decided we wanted a second baby, at 18.
"Landon! Come here, I need your help!" I said as a ruse.
I was caressing Edward as Landon rushed into our bedroom, taken aback by the pregnancy test that Edward was holding.
"We're having a second baby?" His eyeballs were on the precipice of falling from the sockets.
"Yes!" I was touched by how surprised he was as he clutched me in his arms, again showering me with selfless, unfaltering and unwavering love.
Our dream came true, of course, as we had a bundle of joy -- our baby girl Nicole -- just months after our fourth Valentines. Just like every other parent, we were overcome with joy as it was another perilous and gruelling mission well accomplished.
Having gone through a rocky patch with our first baby, we understood how things worked and we successfully cleared the same hurdles.
Knowing Landon had sacrificed so much for us, I plucked up the courage and told my parents I was dropping out of high school regardless to see to the babies.
Meantime, Landon got into a top university in Texas that year and started studying politics and journalism. We were all so proud of him as he would always share with me how cool the cut and thrust of politics was.
I was among the handful of those who knew Landon best. He was a taciturn person who hardly shared his true feelings with me. I had caught him crying twice (yes, only twice) despite how close we had been. He thought crying meant susceptibility, although I would always tell him it was fine to sob because I was a person who often teared up as well.
A shrinking violet and in fact unassuming, Landon had been suffering from anxiety and well-nigh incurable depression ever since his memory started at around the tender age of three. He had to rely on anti-depressants prescribed by his doctors. As such, perhaps it stood to reason why he apologised to me countless times whenever I was subjected to pregnancy cramps. He would, at times, say sorry to me up to ten times a day for no reason, or simply claiming it was he who subjected me to challenges when in fact the pain was par for the course.
"Stop!"
I had to shout at him one night when I was on the receiving end of severe pain a week after I gave birth. As his eyes glistened, he banged his head against the door, probably thinking his head was made of unbreakable steel.
"I know, I know!" He ranted. "I'm really sorry for inducing this pain!"
In the end, I resorted to tackling him and I put him to bed like a child to ensure he was doing fine.
I did understand he put the blame on himself for a multitude of mistakes of which he wasn't the culprit.
I would always see him riving papers or clattering away at his keyboard. The latter did give me some form of relief given he would write to vent his feelings instead of venting to me.
Despite his age and ceaseless battles with some sort of mental illnesses, he was a fresh-faced, but (sort of paradoxically) mature father and husband. Not for a moment did he not care for his children and me. He never pinned the blame on us. He never slapped me like other truculent and swollen-headed men would. We were constantly treated to scrumptious meals made by my caring partner.
Not only would he read story books that he meticulously chose for Edward, he never minded changing diapers for them, although it was a menial job that I heard many males loathed. This, in addition to letting me vent my pent-up feelings and kissing me every night before going to bed.
I loved reminiscing about the trip to a beach one summer evening as it was a truly special Saturday. There was a football match going on, and many simply snuggled together and enjoyed it, leaving us a truly tranquil beach that Landon was so fond of.
"If you choose the Koala, we're going to be beach. But if you opt for the giraffe, we're going to be park instead!" Asked Landon as he handed the two fluffy toys to Edward.
While the verdant park and the beach were both glittering, we headed to the beach and spent the entire evening there.
In spite of his personality, he never minded playing with our precious kids. Knowing it was Nicole's first time frolicking on a sandy beach, he built miniature castles with her, tossed sand and skimmed, as well as carried her around as she laughed, enjoyed herself to the fullest extent.
I was reassured to see both my kids and husband relishing.
It resembled a honeymoon, utterly.
As sunset approached, we allowed our kids to frolic before us as Landon brought me to a cool wooden chair nearby. Just as it was getting somehow breezy, Landon kissed me on my brow and caressed my cold cheek on his warm chest.
"Why did you select me to be your girlfriend despite how insolent I used to be?" I asked.
He said, "I am just glad you mended your ways. And actually, I think you've been really sweet. I couldn't take my eyes off you from the instant you got into that middle school because I was interested in knowing new girls."
However cold the weather was going to become later, with him staying beside me, I felt the road ahead was completely clear.
I wouldn't say Landon sowed his wild oats. The challenges that we both came up against morphed into valuable lessons.
Landon was never a stranger to depression and anxiety, as well as the variety of medications his doctor kindly prescribed to him.
It was the first time we spent the night together that I learned he had been taking such drugs. I was never taken aback given I, too, had my mental struggles at the time -- dating, academic performance, to name a few.
Yet, only after I found myself pregnant with Nicole did I notice he had begun to "binge on" drugs, in a way that he took them like sweets -- every time when he wanted to boost his productivity, he would have drugs, so much so, his sleep cycle was entirely different from mine and Edward's. As Edward looked poised to depart that tender age of 2, he, as expected, took to clamouring for our attention.
While I expected Landon to defy the somnolence and read story books with him, he simply lay on his bed, as if he had already been put to the sword.
Taming that outburst of anger and agony, I asked him softly, "How long is it gonna take for you to return to normal?"
That noticeably weighed on his conscience. He got up without a word, and snuggled down Edward's tiny bed to read him a short story as he would do every night.
I thought that was the end of the story, quite blissfully...
We were ovecome with unadulterated excitement, unquestionably. The first two weeks following her birth served like a long-awaited energy boost.
But Landon switching to online classes thanks to the ravaging virus had matters come to a head.
One peaceful night...
"Victoria," Landon whispered as he snuggled down the bed, "I think it's about time I told you this."
"What?" I wondered as I clutched his lean body.
"Umm...I can't stand this anymore. I know drug overdose..." He was conspicuously floundering.
"I know, I know, I want to stay with my parents in Dallas until I get rid of this habit, until I slough it off, ok?" Provided his ardour for literature, it wasn't weird that he loved to embellish his words.
I was still processing the words. I was lost for words.
"Victoria? Are you ok?"
After a few seconds, I was brought back to earth,
"Oh, yes. That's awesome, isn't it? I've longed to hear this. Let's fight fire with fire and we'll reunite for a fresh beginning!" I replied, albeit with hidden misgivings.
Looking after the two kids was never a cinch. When Landon was with me, I could have him take care of the kids while I unwound myself. Reality sank in -- I had to tell myself there was a time and place for everything to deter my rebellious soul from leaving the babies behind. I finally had an epiphany about how strenuous the job was for Landon.
But I never had to wait for the cows to come home.
Approximately three weeks later, my compassionate husband returned, literally. He was completely rejuvenated with his dimples and appealing smile that created the impregnable bond between us. We went back to our own place and embraced a fresh new week: Landon polished up his cooking and writing skills again while we, like property magnates, indulged ourselves in the lap of luxury -- having our kids frolic around us as we snuggled and kissed. That was sheer luxury.
Just like a quasi-Titanic, we steered clear of more heart-piercing snags and was put back on the right track.
August 4th, 2019 was shaping up to be a quite normal and peaceful day. I told Landon to take care of the kids while my girlfriends and I enjoyed ourselves for the entire morning.
"Landon! I bought you some new shirts!" I called him as I arrived at home.
A bespectacled Landon grinned as he kissed me again on my forehead. It just made me smile seeing him wearing glasses, as if he had a magic wand.
After dinner, Landon, as usual, chatted with me as I bragged about what I did, just like what we would normally do.
After reading Edward a book, Landon came back to the room, looking exhausted.
With a sobering tone, he, for no apparent reason, apologised to me,
"Victoria, I'm sorry for leading you on. I'm sorry. Without me you wouldn't have gone through so much pain and had to struggle with mental health like I do. I'm sorry..."
I interjected, "What's wrong? You didn't do anything wrong." I comforted him.
"No, I...I..." He began to sob.
My brain was spinning apace, as if trying to escape from my body.
The sobbing halted after I hugged him tightly for three straight, silent minutes.
"I'm going for a bath." He said.
I nodded as he left the bedroom door ajar.
I turned to the TV as I was curious about the movie on air.
Time ticked by truly quickly and Edward woke up and cried.
As I wanted to pamper him, I realised it had been a long time since Landon left.
Intrigued, I was compelled to look for him.
Oddly enough, he was nowhere to be found in any of the three bathrooms in our place, in our kitchen, living room, basement...
I checked our kids' bedroom as well, but still no luck at all. I was galled.
I trawled through every inch of our house again, even the front and back yards. Still, I had no luck at all.
That was, until this question popped up:
"Is he hiding in the garage?"
I carefully and cautiously opened the door to the garage, as if a monster had been lying in wait to slaughter me for my unpardonable sins.
Then came the cruellest of all things on earth.
A rangy body with a rope...
"You hung yourself? Seriously? Landon!!" Something salty began running down my face.
"Landon!" I cried, clutching his long yet pale body, not forgetting to get a knife to cut the rope and rescue him.
I put him on the carpet and saw his bruised neck. With his eyes closed, he looked unexpectedly wan and didn't look alive as I called 9-1-1, hoping God would be kind enough to give us a second chance to confess our sins.
During that time, I didn't leave him. I gave him the warmest and the biggest hug that I could on the carpet as my tears escaped my eyes and fell onto his pajamas, percolating through it.
I lay on top of his, albeit unable to cover his long legs, telling his invisible killers to put me to the sword instead. He didn't deserve that abysmal treatment!
...
I called a friend of mine to take care of the kids.
It was never plausible for my friend to arrive an hour after the call, but that few minutes were the longest I'd ever endured.
My kids started to cry as Landon's voice reverberated in my mind...A literal witches' brew was ready to strike.
By the time I arrived at the hospital, Landon had already been in the ICU.
Initially, the nurses refused to let me see him, saying his life was still at peril.
The doctors worded the news carefully so as not to dishearten me, but also not to give me a bogus hope.
This as I alerted my and his parents to the news.
"What?" That word came out of his mom's mouth at a snail's pace. The terror, as she probably shuddered, was palpable.
Ending the call, I sat on a stone-cold chair right next to the ICU where Landon was being treated to collect myself, knowing I was crying over spilled milk.
As if teetering on the brink of collapse wasn't enough of an outrage, my ear-splitting rants caught nobody's attention in a nippy corridor, avid for any news.
I started to ruminate over what will follow his death, how his parents would wail at me over leaving him alone in the morning and not keeping tabs on him...Such terrifying thoughts, coupled with the sullen sky, forced streams of tears out of my eyes.
My emotions whipsawed wildly. I was nearly smothered by the snot that swamped my nostrils hard.
His parents arrived hours later. Much to my surprise, they gave me a huge hug and invited me to pray for him, pray for his safe return. I was cautiously relieved, given his life still hung in the balance.
The next morning following that sleepless night, a nurse allowed me to see Landon.
I rushed in, thinking he would be decidedly delighted. But, what I saw was a Landon with tubes all over his body.
The doctor told me the damage to his brain was not serious, for which I heaved a huge sigh of relief.
Yet those nights were the toughest I'd ever endured. My brain was snowed under with images of him and our pleasant recollections that instead added to the trouble.
I was dejected, hopeless, desolate, heartsick...
Yes, luck would strike sometimes. But during that tumultuous period, I was repeatedly and mercilessly dampened by dispiriting setbacks that pounded me constantly.
I was shorn of any crumbs of comfort and hope.
Four day following the attempted suicide, and that afternoon, I happened to be the only person inside with Landon.
I was studying his smooth hands with faint scars on them as a nurse recorded his heartbeat and was ready to report to the doctors.
"Beeeeeeeeee..."
"Oh no," I heard the nurse mumble.
Defibrillators were in moments later. I scented a whiff of tragedy...
...
"We've strained every sinew, but..." The doctor sighed as the team left, left us struggling in a dark rabbit hole.
I was the first to start sobbing. I held Landon's hands as my stinging tears fell onto his hairy chest.
"Landon!" I cried. "Please, God, for his sake, return him to us! I'm begging you!" I kneeled down beside him.
I kissed Landon hard in the hopes that romantic yet desperate kiss would bring him back to life.
But that wasn't the reality.
A thick, dark cloud of uncertainty and piercing pain immediately enveloped the entire hospital, bearing down on Landon's private room.
"Wake up, please! Landon! I can't live without you! Please!" I shouted once again in fear, hoping it was ear-splitting enough to wake him up.
"Landon!" I cried with a vengeance as I started to stomp. I pushed him as my voice stuck in my throat.
Was I a silly waxwork that wasn't worth any attention? Of no consequence? Was a simply a mentally ill teen? Or was I a flustered genie which was let out of the bottle unwittingly and ostracised?
Buckets of chilly rainwater again sheeted against the windows. That was all I could hear.
His and my parents went in the room one by one as they grieved the unbearable loss.
...
A day after his death, my bosom friends and my dear sister all got wind and came over to give me hugs and kisses.
"I'm so sorry, Victoria."
"My condolences."
We even took a picture saying, "Today, we celebrate his life. Rest in Peace Landon. We'll never forget how compassionate you had been to every one of us. Fly high, Landon."
Those were the words that I was overwhelmed with. I was fortunate to have so many caring friends who spared no effort trying to free this incarcerated soul of mine.
But all of them were no match for Landon's unreserved love.
Yet, the first night without him was the most frigid one I'd ever gone through.
I snuggled down into the stone-cold bed. It was never easy to heat it up. It was impossible, I should admit. Landon's absence made for a harsh void that kept pounding my fragile heart.
As I fell asleep, the movie studio in my body kickstarted a brand new project. I found myself bleeding hard as Landon walked in front of me.
I shouted, "Landon! Wait! It's so painful!"
But he gave no response at all. He just kept going, faster and faster, as if something menacing or sinister was trying to nab him...
"Ahh!" I was jolted and woke up all of a sudden.
Deserted, I cried again. But this time, no one was there to comfort me. Landon would always be there to assuage my fears whenever I had a terrible nightmare. Yet, I only heard Nicole crying, clamouring for attention in the dead of the night.
The left side of the bed: Still empty.
"Life is too hard, Landon." I said. "Should I come join you?"
Reality just sank in. But only after a week or so did I grasp the nettle and get the phantasmagoria of news into my thick skull.
Two days after his death, we all went to the morgue. The workers there told me that Landon had registered to donate as many organs as possible to the needy all over the nation.
I wasn't flabbergasted, given how selfless he had been. It was this personality that dragged me to him.
With all the paperwork done, I held his hands again. It was cold. I shuddered at the thought of his body being tore open. But he did the right thing, frankly.
Witnessing his shut eyes that would never open again, with a heavy heart, I uttered, "Goodbye, and fly high, Landon."
I couldn't hold my tears. My mom's hugs even made it worse as I sobbed all the way until I reached home.
A funeral was held for him two weeks later. A a simple, instead of a grandiose, one. We all wept to the fullest extent as we recounted how companionable and mature of a young boy he was.
A year following his demise and, as a widow, I still couldn't fully condemn myself to the reality. "Where's daddy?" Nicole and Edward would always tug at my arm and throw tear-jerking questions like this that ensnared my neck tightly. It did behoove me to liken the questions to the rope that suffocated my dearest husband.
"He's..." I would always try hard to staunch the flow of my bruising tears and emotions, and explain like an expert, "He's now living on a bed of roses. Do you like roses? He's in a place where people can live free of struggles."
It truly did tug at my flimsy heartstrings given I had been demented with grief and despair.
Some of my friends even suggested it could have been forestalled, but wouldn't say if it was a favourable option.
I have always felt I needed a good cry. Yes, a good cry that would allow me to wear my heart on my sleeve.
When I would cry...
"If he had thought carefully that he would be leaving me to raise the two kids, and given he loved me so much, he wouldn't have done that..."
Whenever I saw that empty seat in my car, the void on my bed, I would be consumed by that fierce anguish that showed no signs of abating or contrition...
At one desperate point, I was even pushed to be the precipice of death, musing whether to join Landon in heaven and leave this spiritual wasteland behind...
As I imagined how my daughters would respond when I would tell them how their deceased father showered them with unbending love, I was reduced to mutilating tears...I had failed to slough the stifling and ensnaring emotions off...
I thought, I was already a widow at 19 with nobody literally to rely on, I would always come up against the stigma attached, the feeling that I would languish in such a wasteland for the rest of my life.
Enduring grief was certainly one of the most trying challenges to overcome. At 16, when I first met Landon, grief was a sheer stranger to me, not even an acquaintance. It sounded surreal that I was already struck so hard by it at 19, but it is what it is.
Those who truly saw through my apparently formidable facade was my family members, especially my sister, who spared no expense comforting me and bringing me through the originally unbearable trauma.
His birthday, the subsequent Valentine's Day were equally hard to bear. It was ironic -- celebrating days destined for love and gratitude with tears.
Just as I came close to giving up clambering out of the vortex, with the help of some tech-savvy, assiduous and altruistic buddies, I successfully created my YouTube channel where I took to venting my feelings. I wished I had started it earlier so that I could introduce him to more kind people who could have helped him.
Time was key to accumulating subscribers. From "0" to over 100K in just a year's time, I'd received countless comments from well-wishers wishing Landon well in the afterlife and filling this empty bottle of mine with hope that knew no bounds.
"If I told you just what I wanted to share..." I even wrote a song entitled "If I told you..." as a tribute to my deceased husband...
As I wrote the lyrics...
"Thank you, Landon..."
Photos and videos of him hugging and pampering our kids and me brought back fresh memories.
I couldn't help but cry profusely as I was once again ambling down the memory lane, remembering the scent of Landon that kept me in his invaluable hugs and kisses that only he could offer -- his gentle voice, his kisses, even his scent on the shirts that he loved to wear.
"Wow, so much tears, Victoria. You're one invincible soul. I love your spirits and resilience. Landon will fly high, forever." One wrote.
It was 11 at night already, yet I found myself nodding without any reason, close to nodding off after such a hectic day, juggling work and household chores as a single mother.
There was still a void, no denying, impotent to reverse the hands of time. I felt truly odd suddenly being unable to talk to someone whom I cherished and loved to the fullest possible extent for the past five years.
Wandering off to the lawn in the front yard near the patio, I sat down and looked to the dark yet star-studded sky as the city of Sacramento plunged into a pitch-black night.
Despite spending the second Christmas alone shorn of my husband and joy, with an ostensibly disconcerting silence reigning, I wasn't intimidated at all.
The scent of flowers and the smell of grass was redolent of our first kiss here. Yes, this was where we shared our first and final kisses ever.
Among the flickering stars, I spotted one smiling directly at me from the firmament of Texas. He induced a good cry in my sucked-dry body.
I brought my phone with me. The gallery was where I frequented always...
"I love you, Victoria."
Yeah, that was Landon's voice in that invaluable 3-second video that I had meticulously treasured because that was among the only living memories of him.
A huge lump in my throat ensued.
I couldn't help launching into a long speech,
"Landon, it's been a year since you left us. August 4th of last year. I still remember. You were about to turn 20. Now I'm 20 and no longer a teen mom. It kills me to think that you'll remain forever 19 in my heart. I haven't been feeling alright the moment you departed us as I was suddenly robbed of all the opportunities to communicate with you, to vent to you, to touch you, to comfort you. The kids have been very happy and contented. I just want to say, I miss you, I love you and...you're utterly irreplaceable. You certainly have no idea how your death gutted my entire body. Thank you for everything. Thank you for putting bread on our table and your unfaltering love. And bless you for keeping those in need of organs in mind even though you were close to dying. You'll forever be remembered as a man, a fresh-faced, affable, big-hearted and likeable husband and dad, and writer who never gave up pursuing your dreams and was willing to help, whatever the cost. I wish you could come back from heaven and sit beside me, caress me, and give me a huge, warm hug. That would be the best present ever. Yes, I still remember very well everything that you've taught me, just like fresh memory. Still and all, I'll be with you again one day. Our relationship will remain intact, for as long as it takes."
Tears sauntered down my face nonchalantly as I spoke to Landon's impeccable soul.
A soothing breeze wafted through the block as leaves at the back started to rustle, as if trying to tame my overwhelming fear and save me from that whirlpool of emotions.
As current flowed through my body, I couldn't stop appreciating the stars, the pulsating stars amid the somewhat penetrating and merciless cold of what could have been a warm Christmas with my angel.
Each of the stars represented a physically absent, but forever shining person.
In retrospect, I never understood why I was encumbered by the stigma as well as the gripping fear. I could have overcome it effortlessly given it was only people's two cents, not mine. It was only when my family members reminded me Landon would still be with me, albeit not physically, that I started to climb the mountain and push my boulder uphill.
Nobody should ever capitulate however invincible your nemesis appears. Still lying on the lawn of my front yard, I recalled moments when I was ensnared by the footage in my mind of Landon hanging himself. They were truly terrible.
"Why was I so gullible? My instinct led me up the garden path and I never got to realise Landon was going to take his own life before he was clutched by his death throes." I would always slam myself, or perhaps a slap in the face as the "reward".
But there would, for all time, be a gentle voice telling me, "Don't do this to yourself, Victoria. You'll regret it."
As a vivacious and lithe 20-year-old mom, I wasn't strangled by the challenges and chill at all because I was indeed basking in the warmth and undying love as well as unstinting support of Landon.
I went from a girl who frowned upon devoted writers to a young woman who grew to overcome my fear of writing and reading as well as became a good writer like Landon, who spurred me on. Yes, I'm here to continue his mission, to help him pursue his goals. My achievements are also his.
Whenever snags confronted me, I would always face them squarely as I knew I was doing it for Landon. I reserved a place for his smile in my mind as it would always keep my pot boiling. I needed to shine like Landon. I had to take a page from him.
One day, we'd meet in the flesh again, in heaven, because the elastic string that linked us five years ago would never succumb to challenges ahead. The ravaging obstacles lying in wait amounted to nothing at all. Landon had left me, but he would continue to guide me from above, shield me from peril, love and care for me when I would be encumbered and make me shine like he did. I was truly eternally grateful for having met such an altruistic husband and father who would always subjugate his needs to ours.
Yes, our relationship on earth only lasted for five years or so. But we'd already gotten to have each other's back, be intimate, and share so many memorable moments that would continue to be my only living memories of Landon.
I could still see him grinning with unadulterated joy. This time, right before me as I looked to the sky. I knew he would be back with a vengeance.
The fire of my affection for him stopped guttering. I stretched the elastic string linking our souls forward. The burgeoning blaze began to burn vigorously in perpetuity.
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