My eyes fixated on a poster that hung on the pale blue wall. The poster portrayed a young tiger cowering at the sight of an intimidating, adult tiger. The words, “Fear is weakness,” were typed on the bottom of the poster. I repeated the words in my head, until they inscribed themselves into my brain.
Suddenly, a shrill voice startled me, “Samantha,”
“Yes?” I responded.
“Michael's surgery went well. He is coming off of the medications at the moment, but he has been permitted to leave.” Never before have words given me such relief.
I heard the subtle squeak of the wheels of Michael's wheelchair as he appeared in the doorway of the waiting room. The reassurance that he was alive forced a smile upon my face.
“Hello, beautiful,” Michael slurred.
“Hey. How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Like a million bucks.”

I smiled. Michael's presence never failed to delight me, even on his worst days.

The sound of the spinning tires against the bumpy pavement and the rustle of the wind through the open car windows put me at ease after such a stressful week. The long expedition back home from the hospital gave me time to collect myself. I looked over to the passenger side. Michael returned a glance.

“What are you looking at?” he joked.

“My favorite person on earth,” I retorted.

“Why am I your favorite person? Out of all the people in the world?”

“Do you want a list?”

“Yes. Write me a list.”

“That would literally take forever.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Well, it would take a long time.”

“Then you ought to get started! They say I only have a month.”

The tone of the conversation became serious the moment he uttered those daunting words. I still couldn't adapt to the fact that he was only expected to live another month. I turned my head back to the road and focused. I tried not to think about it. I tried to suppress the wildfire of emotions that raged inside of me.

He looked at me apologetically, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring it up. It's the truth, though. We just need to face it. You need to be prepared for when it happens.”

“You can't prepare for something like that, Michael.”

“I know. I'm sorry. It's hard for me, too. I'm the one that has to die.”

“Are you scared?”

“No. I can't be. Fearing the inevitable is a waste of energy. I've learned to accept the fact that I'm going to die in a month. It just makes me want to seize every little moment that I can. That's all.”

“I love you. I really do. That's why I get so worked up over this stuff. I'm just so afraid of losing you.”

“I love you too, Sam. Don't be afraid. I'm here right now. That's what matters.”

“I know, but a month isn't very long.”

“You really shouldn’t say things like that,” he uttered, turning his head back to the window.

“Well, it’s just the truth.”

“I know it’s the truth,” he snapped.

“You just want to ignore everything that’s happening.”

“You know what? You’re right, Sam. I do want to ignore everything that’s happening, because what’s happening right now is a complete nightmare.”

I didn’t know what to say. I just kept driving, staying silent.

“You might think I’m just living in a fantasy land, ignoring the situation, but I’m well aware of what’s going on, and I think about it every waking second,” he continued, “Just because I don’t sit here and whine about it, doesn’t mean I’m not suffering. You can’t even begin to understand what I go through every day.” He shook his head angrily. “What would you do? Please. Tell me. What would you do if you knew you were going to die?” He stared at me, his brow lowered, and his eyes beaming with intensity, as he waited for my response. I was speechless.

“You must have something to say. I mean, you obviously don’t think I’m handling the situation properly.”

I remained silent.

“That’s what I thought,” he mumbled.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Sorry for what? Why are you apologizing?”
“I just don’t know what to say.”
“You just need to stop acting like you know what I’m going through, because you don’t.” I saw a tear run down his cheek. “It’s so hard, Sam. I’m sorry for getting so angry. You just don’t get it. I want to feel normal. I have a month left of my life. I want to at least enjoy myself, and I can’t do that if all I think about is the fact that I’m going to die.”
Michael wiped the tears off of his face, and looked at me. “I want to make the best of the little time I have left.”

“Okay. What do you want to do? Right now. Let’s do something. Whatever you want.”

Michael’s frown quickly turned into a smile. “Let's buy a dog and take him to the park.”

“What?”

“That's what I want to do. I've always wanted a dog.”

“I guess. If you say so,” I agreed. I quickly made a U-turn and drove toward the pet store.

I slowly pushed Michael in his wheelchair through the store. The piercing sound of dogs barking and cages rattling welcomed us into the not-so-pleasant world of dog ownership.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” I asked.

“Yes.” He looked over at a cage full of small puppies. “Oh my gosh! These are the cutest little things in the world!”

“Will your mom be okay with this?”

“I can just use the Cancer excuse,” he explained.

“Good one. Hey, look, that dog is bald like you,” I joked, as I pointed to a freshly shaved dog.

“Hey, this dog is ugly like you,” he joked.

“Thanks.”

“You know I’m kidding, babe. You are absolutely beautiful. You have the prettiest blonde hair in all of the land, and your eyes are green like grass.”

“My eyes look like grass?”

“Sorry, you know I’m not good with compliments.”

I laughed. “Yeah, compliments aren’t your strongest quality.”

“What are my strong qualities?”
“You have good taste in dogs.”
Michael cradled a white English Bulldog in his arms. “Oh, this guy?”

“He's pretty cute.”

“Not as cute as you, but close. Look how wrinkly he is!”

“Look at his teeth, they don't even fit in his mouth.”

“Oh my gosh. This is the cutest ugly dog I've ever seen. What's his name?”

“You pick. It's your dog.”

“I choose Richard,” he declared.

“That's a terrible name for a dog.”

“You're the one that let me pick.”

Michael and I brought Richard to the local park. I firmly gripped Richard's leash, while simultaneously pushing Michael in his wheelchair. Richard began excessively panting and slobbering within minutes of our hike through the winding trails.

“We probably should have chosen a dog more equipped for walking,” I suggested.

“Hey, I'm not equipped for walking, and you picked me! So, hush,” Michael joked.

“This is true.”

“Hey, uh, we need to stop soon,” he mumbled.

“Why? What's wrong?”

“Just a little sick.”


“Chemo?” I asked. Michael nodded slowly.

I pulled him off to the side and grabbed a bag, made especially for these instances, from my backpack. The presence of his symptoms reminded me that my time with him was fleeting. I wanted to cherish it. It was difficult, though. We couldn't even do simple things without the interference of his disease.

“I'm so sorry,” he sighed, as he threw the bag in the garbage bin.

“No. It's okay. It's not your fault. We should probably just go home now.”

I pushed Michael up the ramp, made just for him, into the doorway of his beautiful, red brick house. I pulled him in his wheelchair next to the comfy couch. He grabbed Richard from his lap and slowly transitioned from his wheelchair to the couch. I plopped down beside him and interlocked my hand with his.

“I'm really sorry about today,” he moaned.

“Don't be sorry. You just got a little sick. It's not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal. We can't do anything normal. I always ruin it. I don't even know why you stay with me.”

“You don't ruin anything. I love being with you, even if you're sick. As long as I'm with you, I'm happy.”

“I just feel bad about it. I don't want you to suffer along with me.”

“I'm not suffering. I want to be with you as long as I can. I want to cherish every moment I have with you.”

“Okay.” He sighed. “I hope this doesn't get worse. I'm so miserable. I'm in so much pain. I just want it to stop. I want to enjoy the time I have left, but it's so hard. This disease sucks the life out of me.”

I held my hand behind his head, and ran my fingers through his thick, brown hair. I looked into his bright blue eyes, leaned in, and kissed him softly. “Just remember, I'll be here if you need anything.”

“You're the greatest. You really are. I need to get some rest, though. Come tomorrow. Same time as usual. I love you.” He pulled me in for another kiss.

“Okay. I love you too. I'll see you tomorrow.”

The fact that I was granted the opportunity to see him the next morning was enough to keep me going. I rested easier, knowing he was there. However, that feeling would slowly fade as the days drew nearer.

The next day, at around noon, I pulled into the rugged, gravel driveway of Michael's dwelling. His mother waited in the doorway, which seemed odd because she was usually at work at that time of day. I slammed the car door shut and quickly approached her.

“Is he awake yet? He's been sleeping in on me the past few days,” I joked.

“He's not here,” she explained.

“Well, where is he?”
She looked away and sighed. “He's not anywhere.” She suddenly burst into tears.

“No. Please tell me this isn't happening. This has to be a dream. Please. No. He can't be gone!” I cried.
I shook my head in disbelief. “I just don’t see how this could happen. Yesterday, the doctors said he had a month to live.”
“I know,” she said.
“So, what happened? I don’t understand. He seemed okay yesterday. He just got a little sick from the chemo.”
“It wasn’t the chemo that made him sick.”
“So, what was it?
“I guess when he was at the hospital, he caught a bad virus. I don’t want to go into detail, but he was extremely ill last night. I called an ambulance at around three in the morning, and they brought him to the hospital.”
“Why couldn’t they do anything? It was just a virus. They treat viruses all the time.”
“Sweetheart, he had Stage Four Leukemia. His body wasn’t equipped to fight off a virus. It was too late by the time he got there. Apparently, the virus had been in his system for several days.”
“I could’ve stopped it. I should have been more careful with him.”
“No, Samantha. He caught the virus at the hospital. You couldn’t have done anything.”
Tears streamed down my cheek. “I wasn’t ready for this. I want him back,” I cried. Tears drenched the collar of my shirt. “I just want to be with him again, but I can’t because he’s gone forever.” I didn’t truly realize he was gone forever until I said it myself. Then, it hit me. He was gone.
I hugged his mother and walked back to my car. I rolled my windows down all the way. I figured that driving around, feeling the wind on my face, and listening to his favorite songs was the best way to heal my broken heart.

“I’ll call you later on, Samantha. Okay?”
I somberly nodded my head at her as I put the car in reverse.
Tears fell from my face like hot wax cascading down a burning candle. His transition from a physical being to just a memory occurred so suddenly, and without warning.

I wanted to be there for his mother, but I needed time to process the situation. I didn’t know what to do with myself, without him.
I decided to drive to the park where we took Richard. As I walked on the trail, I thought about Michael. I missed being able to hold him. I missed running my fingers through his soft, brown hair. I missed the way his blue eyes twinkled in the sunlight. Most of all, I missed his smile, the only thing that could instantly make me feel okay. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach every time I saw that smile. I just wanted to see it again.

I walked sluggishly through the roughly paved trail, staring down at my worn out sneakers. I honestly didn’t know what to do next. I was so afraid to live my life without him.

A shiny object on the ground caught my attention. I knelt down and discovered a silver necklace with a lock charm in the shape of a heart. I quickly snatched it off of the ground. I tried to fit the key from my necklace into it. It fit. It was Michael’s necklace. He gave the key necklace to me for my birthday and told me it was the key to his heart. He always took his off when he got sick, so he didn’t ruin it. He must’ve dropped it by accident.

I felt like I had a piece of him with me. I felt like he was still there, walking with me in the park.
The sweet sound of his voice resonated in my head. His final words, “I love you,” forever etched into my memory. I realized, I didn't have to let go, for his spirit lived on. I didn't have to be afraid. Fear is weakness, and with him I was strong.