A PRICELESS PEARL

A Priceless Pearl

On the March of 1976, Tanya Brown was
informed of the death of her best friend.
She was broken-hearted and overcome
with tearful emotions.
"I'm very sorry for your loss," said Dr.
Peterson. "We tried to do everything we
could…," he continued - his voice
sounding very low. "It just wasn't meant
to be," he finished.
Unable to hold back her resentment at
his words of consolation, she turned
towards the double doors of the hospital
corridors and fled past the reception
room and out in to the warm, tangible
air. There, she tumbled her helpless
body upon the cold stone ground and
sinking her head in to her hands, she
sobbed and sobbed.
This is Tanya's recount of the death of
her dearest friend and loving soul mate.
Life is filled with surprising events. They
are sometimes rejoicing and other
times, they are painful yet each one
carries an important lesson to be learnt.
You see, when a person is afflicted with
news of glad tidings, he or she marvels
at this and has a natural gratification
and contentment embedded deep within
their locked heart but when news of a
sad occurrence arrives, then this
penetrates the heart and the individual
is overwhelmed by a sense of
emptiness. This emptiness I too felt
when Selene passed away but MY
sadness was veiled by anger.
When the doctors informed me that my
friend had only a fortnight to live, I felt
my world turn upside down. Here was
my friend, so full of energy, the
'University of Life,' bound to a bed being
nursed by a stranger and unable to
move without any assistance. I felt so
ashamed and so utterly helpless. You
see, Selene was told that she was
suffering from a terminal illness which
was irreversible and which had passed
the stages of treatment. She was
connected to a food drip and injected
intravenously. The doctors told her that
they were no longer able to save her.
She was dying. Selene was dying and
the doctors could not save her. This
was my anger.
I would visit Selene every day and some
nights, I would remain with her taking
her flowers and the finest assortment of
chocolates. We would both sit for hours
and talk, reminiscent of our collective
experiences. I would tell her about all
the times she made me laugh and she
would tell me about my sense of
humour (or its lack thereof).
She was my inspiration. I was her
motivation.
She was my aspiration. I was her
encouragement. We kept each other
going, I think.
Time passed us by so fast until there
was only twenty-four hours remaining
to Selene's existence. My world sank
fast as the disease deteriorated her
condition further and made her weaker.
She was just able to speak some words
and then would become tired. She would
pause, then resume again.
That day was peculiar, not because it
was our final meeting, but because I had
somehow accepted Selene's dying and
this made me feel frustrated. No, not
frustrated, it made me feel resentful
towards my own feelings. How had I
come to live with the fact that
tomorrow, Selene would no longer be
with me… but that I would?
On my arrival at the hospital, I did not
want to venture any further. I almost felt
that I could go on home and not have to
face this tragedy but then that was
cowardice. She needed me the most at
this time and my turning away would
simply be a foolish denial of the reality.
As I entered upon her, my teary eyes fell
upon a cold, stale, fragile figure
crouched on the side of a dingy bed with
so much longing. Our eyes met. My
heart was filled with a hope that Selene
would miraculously survive and we
would both go on that world tour that we
had promised each other. It would be
the Middle East to start with and then
the Americas.
But would it?
"Hey…," she finally whispered.
"Hi, Sel. You seem perky today," I
untruthfully uttered.
"Yeh," she boldly chuckled.
Selene was no amateur. She was in full
contact with the effects of her condition
from its very start and she knew what
today meant. She was braver than I. I
felt jealous.
It was quiet as I sat there beside her
bed. It was not the usual conversation.
That had stopped for a few days now as
the disease had worsened. The only
sound was the rain hitting against the
window pane, 'Pitter, patter…" and then
the occasional groan from Selene. I was
trying to drown all this reality. It was
too hard. I tried to make some
conversation and with no luck, I
eventually gave up.
Evening soon fell and I had remained
seated in my position for the entire day.
I would not leave Selene, not even for a
moment. It would mean that I had
abandoned her. So I continued to sit and
I felt awful because I felt as though I
was waiting for death to come and take
her. But this was not what I really felt. I
hated death. It was far too painful.
Then, the moment entered upon us, the
one which haunts me each terrible night.
A small groan and beads of perspiration
trickling down her cheeks and neck, her
eyes closing tightly and then with great
difficulty, trying to open but failing to.
The piercing pain was penetrating
Selene's body and then resounding.
A moment later… she died. It had
clenched her soul and clenched my
friend. Death had come at its appointed
time.
She had died that day and I felt
satisfied that I was there with her but I
felt angry that I was so helpless. I'm
truly sorry Sel; I miss you so very
much.
They say that when a person loses their
loved one, they soon learn to live with
this. Not I. I know they are liars. I still
pray that each day that I see the sun
rising, that Sel could too see it rise.
Maybe she does, from up above. I wish I
could see it from there too.