44

Days passed, people passed by and the burning feeling of grief lit inside of me. People from all over the world came by bringing flowers and blessings. He had impacted so many lives, people I hadn't known about. Organizations dropped by thanking him for all the work he did and hoped for a speedy recovery. All these people prayed and prayed, but every day I woke up waiting to see his daring eyes, I began to lose faith. I got out of my broken in cot and leaned against his hospital bed.

I grabbed my flip phone, he had wanted me to have and I clicked my second to last voicemail, listening to it till I felt sleepy, but today I didn't feel sleepy, but I felt guilty. Listening to him saying sorry, when it really should've been me saying it not him.

"I'm sorry", I told him as I placed my head in his chest. I was sorry for never being honest, about where I was from to who I am.

"I'm sorry I wasn't honest", I kissed his cold hand, the hand that had soothed me so many times, yet it seemed so