Eminent Love (25 page)

Layne

E
ven when you
know the end is coming, it still has a way of surprising you.

I’d asked my family to all be in the room together so we could discuss plans and leave nothing left to question before my next round of tests. Although, it hadn’t worked out that way. Somewhere deep inside, I must’ve known, must’ve sensed it. Instinct took over and prepared things without my conscious knowledge.

I lay motionless while they talked around me. My mind still functioned, still offered me the ability to know what was happening, while leaving me trapped within my own body. My fingers wouldn’t cooperate, my mouth wouldn’t move, couldn’t make even the slightest noise to gain their attention. But as they spoke, comforted each other, I knew my voice wasn’t needed. My wishes and beliefs lived within them, resided inside their chests and echoed within their minds. I’d left my mark, as deeply as they all had done to me.

A sense of tranquility filled me as I listened to the words my dad shared with Creed. I knew those words would bring healing and strengthen the bond I was certain they would rediscover. At the beginning, I hadn’t wanted anyone to tell Creed of my cancer returning for a reason, but like most things, reasons become meaningless when it was all said and done. Everything truly will work out the way it’s supposed to in the end; it’s all part of the bigger picture.

Creed… The sound of his deep, soul-comforting voice stood out among the rest. My body was riddled with disease, cancerous cells stealing my breath, my life. But my heart…well, cancer couldn't destroy that, because it was whole again. Creed was right here, and even though I knew we wouldn't have the fairytale ending we used to dream about together, at least he and Drea could lean on each other, support one another.

Death. The finality of it, the absence of a person’s physical presence and the pain it inflicts upon those left behind, is inconceivable. The only solace they find is in those moments which make up memories, and I prayed in the days and weeks to come, our shared moments would bring Creed comfort.

Offer everyone solace.

And a sense of peace washed over me, blanketed my soul.

Some people would probably say what a shame it was how my life had ended so soon, but I’d disagree. I may not have traveled around the world or done everything on my to-do list, but at least I’d loved.

And my God, had I ever loved. With everything in me.

Sitting at the drive-in, with my palm opened, Creed’s fingertips grazing mine, I’d convinced myself it had been a dream. Somehow, this guy had seen past my fake hair, the youthful insecurities, the shyness. I’d chocked it up to it being dark, and excused his kindness by believing he hadn’t noticed those things. I knew…I just
knew
he’d see my hair, pick up on my inexperience the next day, and he’d suddenly have something better to do. But it never happened. I’d chosen to bare my soul, remove the wig, and let him know I wasn’t anything like Drea. I hadn’t expected his reaction. And that was the first time my heart had become so full it ached.

When he first told me he loved me…I’d already known. I had felt it radiate from him the way heat radiates from the sun. Love isn’t caged in by a set of rules or preconceived notions. We may have been together only a few months when he uttered the words, but I knew the truth because it was reflected in every touch, every kiss, every glance across the room, and I wouldn’t have doubted his words for a single second. The depth of love I held for Creed seemed impossible. I’d often wondered how my heart could contain it, how my body wasn’t buried with the fullness of it. It’d become embedded in me, in my heart, in my soul…down to the marrow in my bones. It’d become palpable, tangible, a living, breathing entity. And when I’d said those words back to him, my heart grew heavier. Stronger. It began to beat harder, threatening to break through the confines of my bones. The throb was nearly insufferable, and I didn’t know how my ribcage hadn’t fractured into tiny pieces.

I couldn’t fathom a life without him. The idea of growing old without him by my side never existed, because there was no other way. We had truly been made for one another, our hearts created from the same place, separated at birth. He’d healed me, not physically or mentally, but spiritually. Crevices in my soul I had never known about were filled with him, mended, pieced back together with his unwavering passion. His all-consuming love.

It’s what legends are made of.

But as I consciously became aware of his hand holding mine, I realized something. I couldn’t imagine growing old without him by my side because it would never happen. I would never make it there. Creed would be the one growing old, but without me. We’d never have children, never have grandchildren, never stand before the ever-growing family we’d created together. I’d be there, though I wouldn’t be physically by his side, not in the way we had dreamt about.

But I would be there, watching over him.

Just then, a tear slid past my closed eyelids and ran down my cheek, not making it to the pillow before the warmth of Creed’s finger wiped it away. His voice grew closer, softer, as he said, “It’s okay, Yen. It’s almost over. You won’t ever be in pain again. I promise.”

This wasn’t how I expected my life to end. Even after arriving in California, I still had it in my head I’d wind up with Creed. He’d come after me, and I knew he would. And we’d go on with the rest of our lives—
together
. My plan had never been to leave him, and I almost didn’t. But something in my gut told me that fateful day that I needed to go. I’d thought it had been desire, the yearning to see things, experience life, be
me
. However, once I’d learned the cancer had returned, I realized my departure had been nothing more than basic instinct, primal determination to spare his torment. Relieve him of the affliction my death would ultimately cause.

They say animals wander off when they’re dying, not wanting to burden their pack with their death. And I believe this to be true of me. A piece of me, buried deep beneath the strength and resilience, knew this day would come. And that part of me was what had pushed me, convinced me I needed to move away. Creed had been by my side every step of the way the last time I’d battled, and I couldn’t allow him to do it again. He had so much to live for, so much drive and purpose. I couldn’t bear to watch him throw it all away to sit by my side and watch me waste away until there was nothing left but a shell of my former self before death claimed me.

But here he sat anyway.

Because eminent love has no bounds.

It’s infinite.

It calls to us, even from thousands of miles away. It tethers us together. And I believed our connection had become the driving force to bring him back to me. My heart spoke to him, and his to mine. Which was how I knew he’d never question how real, how strong, our love was—will always be.

It’s indestructible, and not even in death would it cease to exist.

As I lay in bed with my body at rest, my mouth incapable of curving into a smile, I knew he’d be okay. Maybe not tomorrow or next week, maybe not a year from now, but I knew without a doubt his conviction would carry him through. He’d feel me in his chest, by his side, watching over him. I may not have been given the opportunity to grow old
with
him, but nothing would keep me from experiencing life
through
him.

My body might’ve given up, but I hadn’t. I promised I’d fight, and I had planned to for as long as God allowed. But I could feel my breathing growing shallower. My heart beating slower. I knew it was coming; I wouldn’t surrender in defeat. Everyone would know I’d fought until my last breath.

I’m a warrior. Not a hero.

The real hero of my story is Creed.

He’d shown me more love than most experience in a lifetime.

Drea used to say it was unhealthy how we hardly ever disagreed on anything. She’d somehow mistaken disputes for passion, and I only hoped for her sake she’d find someone to show her the difference. Because in reality, passion resides in the soul, in every beat of your heart, not in petty arguments. It is not defined by the intensity of lust, the level of your voice, or the butterflies in your stomach. Passion is meant to build your spirit, ignite your tenacity, and above all else, embolden your ability to love. Creed and I chose to spend our time together loving one another, instead of being caught up in the small stuff. Creed had managed to pack two hundred years’ worth of passion into a short amount of time, never once leaving me unfulfilled.

I never questioned how deep his love ran for me, not once.

It’s true…life is short. But it doesn’t have to be. You don’t have to live to be a hundred to have a full life. It doesn’t matter how many places you visit, how much money you earn, or how many people show up at your funeral. The evidence of a life well lived does not ride on those things. It’s about how
hard
you loved. How
deep
you were loved. And
who
you have by your side at the end.

You can’t take possessions with you when you leave.

Money has no value where you’re headed.

And people can’t come with you.

Love, however, withstands the test of time. It doesn’t perish when your heart stops. It doesn’t expire on the date carved into your headstone. It lives on. It remains with the ones who carry it with them every day. Love is the only thing you can take with you to the other side of eternity.

Nothing else should matter.

The conversations around me began to fade, and I took the time to think about those surrounding me. The ones I’d end up leaving behind. The ones who would carry me with them in their hearts, and keep me alive long after the medicine and machines stop.

My parents. Loyal and protective, sometimes to a fault. I’d fought it so much as a teenager, desperately wishing I had some sense of privacy. Yet now, I’m thankful for them. For everything they’d ever done for me. I’ll never experience the love a parent has for a child, but I firmly believe in the love I received from mine. I could grasp the unconditional aspect, because I’d lived it. Even through their punishments, it was there, driving their every move. I may not have always understood it, and had even sometimes convinced myself they only loved me because they had to, but I knew the truth. I’d always known it, even when my adolescent mind couldn’t fathom it, or simply refused to accept it.

The thought of burying a child was foreign to me, and had no idea what my parents were going through—or
still
had to go through—but at least they knew without a shadow of a doubt how much I loved and appreciated everything. I’d made sure of that. Finding out their daughter had cancer at seventeen years old probably tore them up inside. However, they never showed it. They remained strong, faithful, and confident we’d get through it. And again three years later when it came back. This last time, they were on the first flight across the country, and hadn’t left since. I’m sure they knew, realistically, this would be the last time they’d ever have to hold my hand through it, yet they remained strong, resilient in their faith. And that’s what they’d taught me.

Drea. We’d been together since conception. I’d never had a better friend than my sister. Even when we were younger and she used to steal my clothes, or when I was adamant about coloring my hair to differ myself from her, she was always my best friend. Dropping everything and coming with me to California shouldn’t have been an easy decision, yet she made it without hesitation. No questions asked other than “when?” She’d been the light when things seemed too dark, the laughter when all I wanted to do was cry, and the hand to hold when I thought I wouldn’t be able to handle any more.

People seem to measure their worth with how many friends they have in life. I never did. The truth is, it’s about how strong the relationship is…how deep it runs. It’s the value of the connection, not the number of relationships you have. It’d always made me sad to see so many women choose to senselessly betray others, spreading lies and hurting the people who’ve supported them. At least I could lay here and know I consistently had someone in my life who only ever wanted to stand
with
me, not
by
me; lean
into
me, not always
on
me;
love
me with purpose, not
hurt
me intentionally. I may not have had many long-term friends in my life, but I had Drea. And it was all I ever needed. I had no doubt I’d live on in her forever. She’d carry the love we shared, the bond we had, and incorporate it in other relationships. I would live through her—through the connections she’d make with others, the support she’d offer. And I had not one worry she would be the person Creed needed for solace, strength, and encouragement after I was gone.

Creed
. From the first time I saw him, I knew he’d been given to me for a reason. Now, six years later, his purpose in my life was unquestionable. With or without ever meeting him, I would’ve still ended up in this bed. Would’ve still had the same ending. The difference is, without him, I wouldn’t have been lying here whole. He truly completed me, filled every nuance of my life with unbelievable happiness. With solid, honest,
pure
love. Perpetual devotion. Immense passion. He showed me selflessness, honesty,
trust
. The way he looked at me could’ve offered anyone a definite belief in true love. So many people go their entire lives without experiencing half of what Creed had given me, and for that I feel sorry for them.