Never let me go..

As a writer would relate, sometimes the intended piece is star like and once reality touches it it dwindles, stumbles and falls down in the middle of some deserted land. It would only shine again to a passer by who’d have the courtesy to prod into its meaning. Other than that, it is forever lost.

The pain these days is so powerful it is so mute and breathless and naked. I don’t want to write a lengthy post, I only wish to tell you about something I felt yesterday when I finished a book and was watching the movie that’s made after it.

The book is titled Never Let Me Go – a horrible, heartbreaking piece of art that had the kind of ending that’s too realistic it isn’t fiction anymore. I put the novel away and started watching the movie when I started to trace the oddest feeling in me; one I’ve rarely encountered before and I couldn’t finish the movie. A scene came up which I knew would be loaded with emotion from the book, and I found my hand unconsciously flying to my notebook and closing it. The thing is, I was looking forward to the movie. One of the characters, the main one, was really beautiful, and that is usually my favorite setting. I am not talking about physical beauty per se, my definition of beauty usually goes beyond that – that’s why I said ‘characters’, not actors.

In a workout session when you’re running on a treadmill and your legs start to ache and your lungs start to heave, you keep persevering until your hand just decides by itself to click  the ‘stop’ button. This is similar to what happened with the movie. An organ somewhere in me probably responsible for the function of feeling was overused and aching, so it had to signal an alarm for my hand to just stop everything.

And man do I feel like that all the time nowadays. I attribute my headaches, stomach and chest pains to it. My body is telling me that I’m thinking and feeling too much, beyond my capacity, and that I ought to stop, to just stop. It feels like I’m standing on a ledge, and below lies a very steep path that leads into a very dark abyss and every time I so much as only dangle my feet, a shot of pain would originate somewhere and yank me back to my senses.

Also, I rarely weep in movies. Another symptom of the aforementioned predicament is that sometimes my feelings overflow in a very feminine manner; if a movie has a hospital somewhere in it, death, cancer, or loss, it makes me weep. Contrary to what I thought, weeping doesn’t make you feel better in the least. Maybe it does for women, but when a man weeps, it’s too destructive sometimes.

I don’t know what’s happening, but life has been taking it to the next level with me lately. Maybe God is testing me. Maybe He’s preparing me for something. Maybe I just have too much sins to just live like normal people.

never_let_me_go_m

There was this moment at the hospital after dad’s first heart operation last week. We had just finished our visit and were leaving him to the beeping sounds of the ICU, when during a conversation I was having with one of the doctors, the beeping suddenly shot off, and a new alarm tone started to go out. I cut the conversation with the doctor, I was a bit taken aback but wasn’t scared – from experience, I knew that this is probably because one of the sensors was dislocated when dad moved from one side to the other, and the male nurse very naturally came over and switched it off. It was all okay.

What wasn’t okay were dad’s eyes. He didn’t know that it was okay, although he was himself alright. It was a bit scary to him. And then during those two seconds when I walked to his bedstead, right before the nurse came in and shut down that horrible beeper, I saw a rainbow of emotions in those eyes. They were concerned, but very stolid, they even sparkled with defiance, but under all of that I could discern, with that accursed capability of mine, his helplessness. It was extremely imperceptible, but I saw it, in my own father, and suddenly I felt like I shouldn’t have seen that, that somehow it should have been the other way around; as a son, I’m used to being comforted by him when I’m afraid. But that moment, that fleeting moment, my dad experienced fear, and something in me cracked.

And I don’t think it’ll ever mend.

Never let go, dad. Never let me go.

please,

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6 thoughts on “Never let me go..

  1. Exactly same thing that happened to me when I read and watched the movie first time. Very beautiful one.
    See also “The remains of the day” for same novelist. The emotions are breath taking.

  2. I’ve read the novel and and wept through it, actually. I haven’t watched the movie yet. Maybe I will someday, isA.

    Thanks for passing by.

  3. Speechless man! Really beautiful peace, mashaa’Allah! Don’t have anything comforting to say, yet I was in the same situation with my dad who is battling liver failure, and the ‘role switching’ which as a son, has shook my entire foundation. To see my hero, helpless while I attempted to ‘comfort’ him.

  4. Oh liver failure! :( Rabena yeshfeeh w ye3afeeh!

    Thank you for your comment, my friend. May He grant us all strength and patience, Amen.

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