A story of a relationship spanning a lifespan.
|(Inspired from the Breaking Bejamin song- "Give Me A Sign")
It is hard to remember a day when we weren't together. Marty was my eleventh birthday present from dad; I was an only child, who did not have anyone of my age around me, and so it didn't take long before Marty took the role of my brother.
I remember us eating together, playing together, sleeping together, bathing together and I remember me crying every morning on school days when we would have to be separated for five whole hours!
A few years went by and mom and dad had encountered issues in their relations in that time. I would hear them shout at each other, sometimes, even break stuff, and I would pray that it would all go away the next morning, surely, it didn't.
Eventually, they had started to drift apart, from themselves and from me, they didn't give me any attention, even when I called out to them. I can understand them now but the fourteen year old me didn't. I remember sitting, crouched down with my back against the wall and do nothing, but then, whenever I would raise my head up again, I would see Marty's beady eyes, full of concern. All that time that he would sit beside me, he wouldn't make a single noise. He would act as if he knew and experienced all that I did.
Time marched on and we grew up. People came and went from our lives like the clothes that we change everyday, but Marty and I remained a constant for each other. I remember my time of winnings when he would share with me in my joy and in my failures when he would grieve for me, console me by putting his head on my lap.
I remember the day I met Kate, she loved Marty as much as I did, and Marty loved her too. We'd watch movies together. With time, our love grew, I had proposed to her, she had said yes, after the next few years and the seasons of sweet summer we had a baby, a girl. Marty was howling on the day when we took her home. I saw him run around the house and then around her crib.
Those were happy days, but darker days did await us. Our girl fell ill and despite our countless pleads and prayers, she was not able to survive. We were devastated but I tried my all to keep it together, I did but Kate couldn't.
Months later, she came up to me and said that she wanted to leave, and I remember being reminded of mom and dad again, but I was not them, I let her go.
Easier said than done. I found myself crouched again, backed against the wall and again I found Marty looking at me the same way as before. I can't remember how many nights I cried beside him.
Years later, the wounds remained but it was clearly on the path of recovery. I would come home from work and would be greeted by Marty wagging his tail and sticking his tongue out. Until one day, when I wasn't greeted in this manner.
I ran to the rooms to search for him, I found him lying on the floor, stiff, his eyes were not moving but his chest was pounding.
I rushed him to the hospital, he was admitted and the doctor informed me that he had a neurological abnormality. The paralysis is the first of many stages of degradation, that he would ultimately go insane and if he were to die, it would be because of the pain.
Marty was running out of time.
I didn't know what to do, I was lost without him. He had been my light-post for all these years and now the doctors were telling me to let him go. How was I to continue then. "But it was not about me", I had reasoned, "If it is a choice between death and painful death, then I would only want to ease my brother's passage."
We waited for a few more weeks, waiting for the medicines to somehow work, not praying, I had figured over the years that I had been on God's bad side but I did pray that Marty was not.
I remember that day, he had become numb to sight, smell and sound but he could still feel my presence. With heavy feet and a heavier heart, I led him to the forest...