Letter #7: Veins

“The night was all you had, but you run into the night from all you had. Found yourself a path upon the ground; ran into the night; you can’t be found.”

-Bastille lyrics

You.

I'm always so scared I'm going to lose you. I’ve only met you once. And yet I'm so scared. That night where you need to hear somebody’s voice, and so I Skyped you? I was so scared. I prayed so hard that night that you would be okay. Because I know what it feels like to not be okay.

I prayed that you would feel something. I prayed that you would feel the blood pumping through your veins. I prayed that would remind you that you’re alive. I prayed that this realization would remind you of people in your life. I prayed that you would remember the ones who love you. I prayed that you knew those same people would die for you, so you wouldn’t have to.

Last summer, I was so sick. A raging kidney infection had gotten into my blood stream. I spent a week in the hospital, hooked up to every IV they could find. I remember feeling those IVs. At four in the morning, when my nurse switched out my IV, I remember waking up to the feeling of a cold new antibiotic race through my veins. I felt it everywhere. I felt all my veins. Sometimes, they would pump Potassium through my veins, and it would burn. I would sit there and hold my mom’s hand and cry.

I prayed that you would feel your veins like that. That you would taste, very vividly, just how alive you are.

And then, you were momentarily okay. That makes me smile. Every now and then you would send me a message about how happy you are. About how you know God is in control. About how you miss me. Those things make me smile, because I see the hope rise up in you like a long-awaited springtime.

I wanted that to last in you.

And I hope you know that you can stop running now. I’m here. It’s me. I’m safe. And I am so, so glad that you’re still here with me. You’ve known the night and it’s been all you had. But please stop running into it. Never again. Stay here with me, because you’re safe here, in the quiet. It’s going to be alright. Shhh. Stay.

Maybe I can see you again someday. And we could go for coffee and be like two sisters who have a lovely bond. And if feeling your veins hurts, I will hold your hand through the pain; and I will understand – anything – everything.

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