Dear Diary part 5

Wednesday, Dear Diary,

April’s mum handed me a letter this morning. She said that she had found it in April’s room with my name on it. I tentatively opened it and started to read.

Dear Jo,

I know you’ll blame yourself for what I am about to do and I want you to know that it is not your fault. It is nobody’s fault, but my own. The short time we have had together has been some of the happiest weeks in my life. But I’m afraid that it is just not enough for me.

More than anything I wish that I was as strong and brave as you are. But I’m not. I’m just a coward and despite what I have told you, I can’t cope with this life anymore. So I’m going to take the easy way out. Please don’t feel sorry for me, for if you are reading this, it means that my plan has succeeded and I am already in a better place. But please, please do me one last favour. Tell my Mother I love her and that this is not because of her or Dad. Please do this for me.

I wish you well and I wish Matt well. I know that you and my parents will be very upset by my plans, but you are not weak like me and you will cope. You will be sad for a while, I am sure. But in the end you will move on and forget about me. If I can, and I think I will be able to, I will watch over you,

Your faithful friend forever

April

Strange how no matter how many tears you have cried, somehow you can still cry more. It hurt me so much to know that April thought that I could ever forget about her. It hurt me more to realise how dreadfully unhappy she must have been and that, fool that I was, I didn’t notice. April’s Mother noticed my fresh tears and took the letter from me and read it herself. She smothered a sob and then walked away from me, my letter still clasped in her hand.

Thursday, Dear Diary,

April’s Dad turned up at the hospital at about 6:00 this evening. He looked shocked and worried and was dressed like he had just rushed there from somewhere. He and April’s Mum exchanged a frosty greeting and for a moment I was afraid that they might start shouting at each other. But instead they settled down to coldly ignoring each other. After about 10 minutes of this deafening silence I was ready to scream and it made me realise what it must have felt like for April to come home to this every day. Because, unlike me, she couldn’t get a lift elsewhere and escape this horrible silence. For her there was no escape. Although obviously she hadn’t believed that. She’d thought of a very permanent escape for all of her problems.

Tears sprang into my eyes as I thought of her. It’s strange, I never used to cry much at all, but now tears come within seconds. I guess things like this change people. I glanced at Matt. He was at my side, as he always seems to be nowadays. He’s been as steady as a rock throughout all of this. But with what’s happened with April, I’ve just been too busy to think of what is happening between us.

April’s condition still has not changed and the longer that she stays asleep the more likely it is that she will never wake up. Since Tuesday, they let me in every day to see her. I talk to her for what seems like hours, but is actually just a few minutes. I pray for her to reply, but she never does. But still I will not stop trying.

Friday, Dear Diary,

April is awake! I wasn’t able to see her immediately, but apparently she woke up last night after I had left. The Doctors say she is well and may be able to come home soon. Her Mum and I nearly wept for joy when we heard that. Her mum’s in with her now and I can go in to see her as soon as the nurse calls me.

‘Jo sweetie, you can go in now, but not for long, she’s very tired’.

I pulled myself to my feet and followed the nurse. For a moment I hesitated at the door, then I pushed it open and peered inside.

She was lying on her bed, surrounded by dozens of pillows and the remains of her dinner. Her face was flushed and she was bitterly complaining.

‘Mum, you simply have to bring me some real food tomorrow instead of the rubbish that they give us here.’

‘Oh, Honey, It’s not that bad!’

‘It is, it’s disgusting. Bring me some proper food, like McDonalds’.

‘I’ll see what I can do’, her Mum replied although it was obvious that she would do anything her beloved daughter desired. I was personally overjoyed to see April back to her normal moaning self. Not that I was going to tell April that I liked her moaning. That would only encourage her.

‘Oh my god, Jo! You came! I missed you so much!’

‘Not half as much as I missed you’.

We gave each other an awkward hug and then sat and talked for the rest of the afternoon. I started filling her in on the recent goings on in our school. She was outraged at how my date with Sam had turned out; both of us avoiding the subject of what she had been doing during that Sunday. She then met my confrontation with Simone with open disbelief.

‘You never. You wouldn’t have told Simone to bugger off.’

‘I did and more. I did a very passionate little speech about how she is going to end up alone and unloved because once her beauty fades, she has absolutely nothing to offer the world’.

‘Blimey. And I thought I was bitchy.’

‘You can ask Matt if you don’t believe me.’

‘Hmm, how is the lovely Matt? I hear you and him have been near inseparable this week. Anything going on between you two?’

Luckily the nurse came in and ushered me out before I had the chance to answer. At least now I have until tomorrow to work out the answer myself.

Saturday, Dear Diary,

April seems to be getting stronger every day and the whole world seems brighter now that I know she’s definitely going to be in it. I’ve brought her a couple of girlie magazines and, since she begged me too, some make up and gothy clothes. I’m sitting in the waiting room now until its time for me to go and see her. Her mum’s talking to some doctor, but I’m not worried. April’s getting better, anyone can see that.

Wait, something’s wrong, April’s mum is crying. And from where I’m sitting they do not look like happy tears. The Doctor’s still saying something, but I can’t hear it, because the nurses behind are talking too loudly.

‘Yes, very sad. She was only 15. She was brought in on Monday after taking an overdose. We all thought she was out of the woods, but there were complications with her condition last night and when the doctors went to check on her this morning, they found that she had passed away in the night. Very sad of course, she was so young, with her whole life ahead of her. What a waste.’

No

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Dear Diary,

I’ve barely eaten since April die... passed awa... left us. Or slept. Or gone to school. Or done anything really. The Doctors think my collapse at the hospital was just due to stress and shock so technically I should be in school. The only problem is I really don’t want to go. Not yet anyway.

Even nearly a week after it all happened, my life is still a mess. I can’t even remember what day it is. But what does that really matter anyway? April’s not here, the date hardly matters compared to that. It’s strange how much I still had to learn about her, such as what made her happy, what made her laugh, what made her cry. I didn’t really know her at all. There are still so many things I wanted to tell her, so many things I wanted to ask her.

I don’t know why things like this happen. I don’t why people who are so good and have so much left to offer the world are snatched from it. Why she was saved from the brink of death only to leave us days later. It’s not fair.

Part of me still can’t accept that I’m never going to see her again. It doesn’t seem possible somehow. I keep thinking of something to tell her, or show her and then I realise I can’t, and it’s like I’ve lost her all over again. There was so much we still had to do and so much that April never had the chance to do. And all I can think of is those nurses’ words. ‘What a waste’. She has been such a good friend to me, her life can’t possibly just add up to nothing. It can’t. She’s worth more than that. She’s worth more than sympathetic smiles and insincere words. She’s worth more than I can ever give her.

I don’t understand anything anymore. I always thought that people only died when they were ready, but she wasn’t, she still had so much to give. I still needed her. I don’t know how to live in a world like this, where nothing makes sense, where rapists and drug addicts and murderers can live and people like April can di be taken from us. It’s just not fair.

It’s strange that before I knew her, I never needed her, and now I can’t seem to function without her. I keep wanting to know her advice and what she wants me to do and there’s just no way for her to tell me. I miss her so much, all the time; it’s like a constant pain in my guts. I know people always say their heart hurts at times like this, but that’s not where my pain is. I feel this awful emptiness in my guts all the time, like someone has just kicked all the air out of them. I wish I knew how to get through this, I wish I could just remember her and not have all the pain and heartache that goes with it. I wish I could just wave a magic wand and this pain just be over already. But this is the real world and as I’m learning more every day, there are no happy endings here.

Matt keeps calling the house and trying to see me, but I’m just not ready to face him or anyone else for that matter. They all just seem to want to know how I’m feeling and I honestly don’t know what to tell them. The truth, that I feel like my entire life is falling apart and I’m just watching it happen, would just upset them and lies just seem to stick in my throat. There will be plenty of time for making nice at the funeral. Where just like that dark little voice promised me, I’ll be reading my story in tribute.

A small congregation is gathered around a graveside. A vicar is reading from a giant dusty book. A tall brunette leans on her husband’s shoulder, their daughter’s death having brought them together in a way that she never seemed to manage while she was alive. Later on, there will be harsh words between them, each blaming the other for their daughter’s death. But for now there is only grief and a painful silence. Then a pretty girl, obviously still in her teenage years, starts to sob as the coffin is laid into the ground. The tall boy next to her draws her to him and kisses her on the forehead. He whispers what words of comfort in her ears that he can and then slowly walks her away from the service. On the gravestone reads the words: April Grace Townsend, 1991-2006.