Firefly
A piece inspired by 'Fourth of July' by Sufjan Stevens
I have played with the idea of creating a series of short stories based on songs that I or my friends loved. Stories born of song and brought to life through me and my pen. For one it would help me get better at writing, because one simply never stops learning no matter how long writing has been existential to one’s life. Secondly short stories are as important in literature as the longest book. We establish characters, places, stories in a few pages. We are in need of being precise, of keeping it short but not letting the piece in front of us be devoid of quality and depth. This first story is based on ‘Fourth of July’ by Sufjan Stevens. It is a sad one, so maybe get some tissues before diving in. I recommend playing the song faintly in the background for the full existential crisis experience.
I had been sitting at his bed for a while now. He was finally resting after having endured the worst fever on this journey of illness so far. My eyes felt heavy but my mind did not want to rest in case he would wake up again and I wouldn’t be at this side immediately to console him. He had only just recovered from a common cold after having played with the neighbour’s children a few days ago.
He had developed a fever after, a bad one at that. I felt lost, and at fault. Why did I let him play for so long when I knew how easily he could get hurt or cold? Maybe it was just the thought of giving him the experience of a normal childhood and not pretending anything was wrong with him. There was in fact nothing wrong with him. My little star was shining as bright as he could. The world had cast an evil spell on him and made sure he felt the brunt of it every day. I would have taken all the pain and otherness he felt if I could.
He woke up multiple times a night, his nights riddled by nightmares. The dreams kept on getting worse as the fever had gotten worse. The darkness under my eyes was eventually symbolising what the rest of my life would feel like in the future. Life was fading in front of me because I knew that my little dove would fly away soon.
When he finally fell asleep I could slow down my heartbeat to his. “You should rest” they always told me but the thought of resting elicited a panic in me since I knew his mind never rested. Abhorrent pain spread and breathing felt like the most demanding task, for him and me.
He had stirred awake as I absentmindedly counted the freckles he had on his nose. They had always multiplied in late summer. “Go to sleep,” I whispered as I gently stroked his cheek in fear I could hurt him. He was weaker, something I didn’t want to admit to myself. This time he didn’t jolt awake and scream for me. A certain calmness had taken over the room.
He coughed as he tried sitting up not wanting to accept my help so I quickly dropped my hand.
Tears had stained my cheeks and he had noticed too. I had refrained from crying in front of him but as the days passed I had realised so did the time we had together. I was scared of even missing a minute. “Why do you cry?”, his little fingers were grabbing for me and wiping away the remnant of tears. “Don’t cry,” was all he said. It opened up a new wound I had tried sowing shut. I should be the one consoling him not the other way around. It wasn’t him who needed to be brave.
We sat in silence, time stood still in the room. Finally. Only the outside world had never stopped spinning and it would never stop spinning. We were all going to disappear one day.
After some time I had realised he was growing restless again, his forehead was on fire. I had wetted a cloth to try and cool down the fever that had spread further. He accepted the coolness and shut his eyes to rid his mind of whatever it was that was plaguing it. I felt him losing his petals one by one. My eyes started burning. “This isn’t right,” was all that my mind kept on repeating until it was screaming it.
My heart was pumping blood for the both of us. He reached for my hand and put it near his chest. “Look my heart, it is dancing”. He was smiling for the both of us.
The last thing he had asked me was to see the moon and feel the cold breeze on his face. I was reluctant but almost all of me knew what was going to occur. I picked him up with great care and carried him outside. He was at his weakest now and tears had stained his cheeks. His nose was running and I could feel his agitation. My little dove was in pain.
I had wrapped him in a blanket so he wouldn’t get cold. My arms holding onto him for dear life, as this was the last time. He needed to be shielded from the cold wind that had decided to greet us as we stepped onto the porch.
Silence had made its way to us once again- a comfortable one. I had never felt so much love for another person as I did in this moment. He was growing tired until fireflies had decided to show up and change his plans. For that I thank them for eternity.
The fireflies had danced around us, illuminating the dark world. A laugh broke through the dark silent night. It seemed as though the pain had subsided at least for a while. One never really thinks about how much another person’s laugh could change one’s life so detrimentally. I would never indulge on life’s wonders if it meant I could hear his laugh forever. The fireflies had multiplied and put on a show for us. The world had finally been filled with life, the life that had been taken from us for so long. It was as if one was under the influence but my supply would soon fade.
Without dropping his gaze from the ‘magical creatures’ he uttered if the fireflies could come greet him again tomorrow. I took his tear stained cheeks in my now shaking hands assuring him that they would dance as long as he wanted them to. Letting him know they wouldn’t leave until he could dance with them again.
I was glad he couldn’t see how my face had changed, I knew this was the moment I had always been scared of. The fireflies would always be there but he wouldn’t.
“I love you Ma. Let us go sleep now,” was the last thing he said. He held my hand tightly until the last firefly had decided to stop dancing for us and disappeared into the night, his soul disappearing with it. His eyes closed as the night had grown gloomy again. His grip loosened slowly and he was slipping through my fingers. I felt him grow cold in my arms. I had lost him indefinitely. Life had begone to mimic the cold dark night as he had taken the light with him.
From then on I sat on the porch every night, huddled in his favourite blanket to greet my little firefly.
I hope you let yourself feel whatever it is that your mind needed in this exact moment. Grief is hard, it comes in unexpected ways; sometimes uninvited that is. In a way the emotions are intensified since I decided to create a piece that focuses on anticipatory grief which might hurt even more. Your loved one is still with you but all you seem to be able to concentrate on is that this won’t be what your future looks like.
I wrote this little short in the perspective of a young mother mourning the loss of her son. This is simply because whenever I was on the brink of losing someone I loved; they were older than me, it felt as if they had turned into a child again. Loved ones turn helpless and frail, in some way they go back to this infantil version of themselves. It is as if one was able to carry them because they feel so light. One becomes a child again, ready to embrace the ones one had lost years before, the minute life is about to end.
The line that evokes the most guttural sob out of me is „I love you Ma. Let us go sleep now“- It is such a pure thing to say, almost too mundane and yet it holds the mother hostage forever.
We can sense every single thought of hers and in some way read ourselves into the story, acknowledging our own relationship with grief in the process.
If you have lost someone I apologise for maybe opening up a wound you tried hard to close up but I sincerely hope this piece might open up a conversation. Grief is a normal thing to experience, it only signifies how deeply one human being can love another.
It keeps your loved one’s memory alive- remember, they die twice; the minute they leave you and the minute you never utter their name again.
The son will never stop dancing, so you shouldn’t either.
This hurt to read. Beautiful.