Chapter 8

Around 2am my phone started buzzing. I knew it wasn't my alarm tone because my body usually wakes up before my morning alarm and I just lay in bed waiting for the ring to get up. I grabbed my phone from the night stand to check, it was a reminder of the anniversary of Nate's death. I lost grip of my phone and it fell to the floor; still curled up in a little ball in bed, I reached out for one of my pillows put it over my face long enough for me to feel like I was suffocating and then I quickly removed it when I started losing breath.

In 4 years we had moved twice, I had written over a thousand letters, graduated high school, started varisty and had 12 sucide attempts. I wasnt coping on the inside and funny enough I knew the only way to get better is to be my own hero. I lay in bed until sunrise, reading the letters I had written to Nate over the years.

"Dear Nate
I can't really remember what happened to you. It's like a complete blur, the therapist says my mind blocked that memory as a coping mechanism, and that it could come back in time when I am ready to process it. She also said some people have dreams or nightmares and can't remember what they are about in the morning.
Everyone at school thinks I'm being mean because I don't want to tell them what happened -you know how they can get. Wow!! Everything is so different now, one day you were a part of me and now you're gone. I wish there was a way to get you back, I lost you too soon. I wish there was some kind of warning but nothing. Nothing at all !!
2015/06/13
Love your doll
Blessing"

This letter reminded me of how I had flashbacks of the  incident at Nate's; the police asked me to come down to the station to make a statement of exactly what had happened. When I got there, I was escorted to the benches outside, the officer said it was to make me more comfortable and not to feel like a criminal. The wind blew my little petite body to the point where I started shivering. The detective asked me several questions about the night but all I remembered was Nate calling me and going to the house.
Reading that letter reminded me of how far I had drifted from Nate. I was triggered and I had to do something. I asked my father to take me to the gravesite when he woke up around 6am and without protesting, he nodded and I followed him to the car. The ride to the gravesite was entirely awkward. I tried to hold back my tears so that my father wouldn't ask questions. Eventually I fell asleep and my father woke me up when we arrived. He stayed in the car as I got out and grabbed the box I had brought, as well as my bag that had a few things in it.

There were more graves here than what I remember, each step through the gravesite looking for Nate's headstone felt like a punch to my heart. After walking for 10 minutes I found it and I immediately burst into tears. I must have sat there crying for a while when I felt someone hug me from behind. Without looking to see who it was I stood up and said " I'm fine, Please leave"  then I heard my father  respond, " This can't be what defines your life, this can't be what your life is all about ". I turned around wiping my tears away and replied "But it is. I didn't just lose Nate, I lost myself, my happiness, my childhood, I lost my innocence. I fought, I was accused and all I want is to bring myself back. No amount of words will ever explain". He looked at me and said " What's wrong? talk to me". I had learnt a long time ago that when someone asks you what's wrong especially parents they will lecture you about being ungrateful or deflect and make everything about themselves. That question was designed and uttered to make you feel worse, nothing helpful is ever uttered after you say what's wrong. It's just the usual "It will pass, It will be okay, I'm here for you". I looked back at Nates grave completely ignoring my dad. It was a simple one, grey, engraved 'Rest in Peace Nate Mathebula. 1994.12.24 - 2015.01.03'. His father's was right next to his, but it was much taller than Nate's, almost showing who was who without having to read it.

I laid my box of letters I had taken with me from the car down where people would normally put flowers and started reading them to Nate one by one. One of my favorites was :

" Dear Nate
I'm a university student now, can you believe it? I made it this far?

Varisty is amazing, its a bubble from all the bullshit life has to offer. I think I've become one of those kids we used to look down on. A party animal that is. My motto is " You will find the answer at the bottom of a vodka bottle". It's funny I know but this is what life is now. Masking pain with alcohol and books.

I overheard my parents talking about moving a couple of times and I think soon I will be packing my bags. I just don't know how soon.

I love you,
Blessing"

I took out a packet of cigarettes lit one up, I hadn't realised that my father was still standing there, but  frankly I wasn't bothered. He looked at me and said "I don't even recognise you anymore..." then proceeded to walk back to the car. Honestly no one could recognize the kind of pain I was going through anymore, not even me. Years later my mind is replaying the event in my head and I can't make it stop. The sad part is that it's not a dream so I can't wake up from it.
After my suicide attempt everything changed. People could see my pain now, people knew me. Some even went to the extent of googling and finding out information about Nate so they can gossip in the corridors at school whenever they saw me. Everyone saw me bleeding.

I puffed the cigarette a few times and threw it in the box of letters and watched it light up. I then walked back to the car. I got into the backseat, put my headphones on and laid there; Eventually falling asleep. I woke up when we arrived home. I had this longing of wanting to be around Gabriel for some reason so I called him to meet me at the park.

"Dear Nate
Happy Death anniversary"