Miel

Luna’s friend’s son was born on the day Miel died.

Miel always wondered if that gave Luna a reason not to cry on this day. Luna wanted him to stay, but he could no longer do much. There’s nothing wrong in living on after I die, Miel told Luna.

In truth, Miel wanted her to be happy, but he didn’t want her to be with someone else. He found a way to linger. I can’t leave her if I still have regrets and unfinished business, he reasoned.

Today, when Miel came, Luna was already awake. He found a handwritten note on the altar. On the envelope it read

To Miel: “Come back. Even as a shadow, even as a dream.”

The letter, when Miel opened it, said:

            have you ever talked to someone        
            and felt their presence     
            you start to weep            
            because it’s just so thrilling         
            like music you’re hearing the first time        
            thinking it was meant for you?          
            day and night             night and day            i cried          
            but one day i will stop crying                

He looked at Luna. She was watering the plants serenely and in the most heartbreaking way.

In the morning stillness, Miel heard his labored breathing inside a hospital room. A tear fell and stayed on his cheek. His siblings were on Zoom, praying in the background. One sister asked: is that a tear, is he crying?

He saw Luna turning away. She spoke to the nurse, handing her the paper that contained his last dying wishes.