Que Sera Sera

Her name was Olivia.

Absolutely vivacious, a freak, the life and light of her group. Her absence from any occasion was conspicuous . Laid back, believed in smart work, funny, aggressive. But still there was something so deep inside her heart about which no soul knew.

She cared like a mother. Be it her friends, siblings, boyfriend everybody. She had a very small orbit. Not many knew that the so called outgoing Olivia was actually an introvert. She made friends for life and maintained the affection that she possessed for them.

She was popular at many instances. Many thought her to be a lazy intelligent girl, which probably, she was. She was adventurous, totally impulsive, a kid at times, a granny at other. Drama queen- yes she was amazing at all the sorts of drama. Probably she learnt it deliberately to conceal her deep secret from everybody.

The truth was. . . . .

Olivia was running from myriad things. . . because she was running out of time. She wanted everybody to have fun with her because those were the only memories she could freeze in her mind before she closed her eyes. She ran away from family, because it made her think about the grief they'd face. She was insecure. She did not want to lose anything before she lost life. She danced as if there was no tomorrow, because it could happen in her case. She cried for several reasons at one time. She loved her mom, and was happy that in a way God gave her mother's share of problems to her in a fatal form. She was strong, people thought twice before talking to her. Maybe this was a self defense mechanism of dealing with unwanted entities. How she wished she could deal in the same way with death. She found life in her mother's smile, the echoing laughter of her friends, the warmth of her love's hug, his shining eyes. She at times thought that what a waste of information when it went to a brain like hers. It couldn't be implemented. She wrote when sad, because she couldn't articulate grief in words. It was too dangerous for her. She was misunderstood at times, sometimes by her inner most orbit, that hurt her. She reacted in weird ways, an outcome of her insecurity. She made people laugh, because she wanted them to cry when she left. She did not want to be a forgotten obituary. She loved travelling, wanted to travel across the world. But she didn't have time. So she created a small world of her own and traveled across it.

Then she bid adieu. . .

She left the way she wanted to leave, smiling, pain free. . .

She was guilty though, guilty of shattering the beautiful world that she created all by herself. Guilty of giving her mother, her friend's and the love of her life a reason to cry. But now she watches them , from above, happy at the way things were turning out. . .

Her friends were doing gr8, met occasionally and did crazy things that were pre-decided while Olivia was there. One of them finally caught hold of an amazing boyfriend. The other had got into teaching, for good.

Mom learnt to say "no" to wrong. The death of her daughter was enough to shake her for a lifetime. Her sister became what Olivia wanted her to be, headstrong, successful, a darling daughter and an amazing sister. Her brother surprisingly became more responsible. Olivia regretted that she never got the opportunity to see him grow. But now she watched him, secretly crying, making self promises. Every night before sleeping, he closed his eyes and spoke to her. She even replied, but he couldn't hear it. She knew everything that he told her, be it his future educational plans or his latest crush. This was the greatest gift death could give her.

She never got the opportunity to hug her love and sleep. She could see that he couldn't move on. Somewhere she didn't even want that to happen. He was doing great in his job, the way he wanted to. But what he missed was some crazy names, some stupid messages, that care, that consolation. He even missed the stupid fights. She was always there, he knew. But he never could decipher the reason as to how their favorite song automatically starts playing in his laptop, or how he felt cold at night and then suddenly felt warm. It was her, always. Crawling up in his bed and did what she never could when alive, hugging him tight and going to sleep. Only this time, there was no sleep. . .