All Souls' Day

The warmth I so dreaded finally surfaced. It had been swirling at my feet all morning but I chose to dismiss it deliberately, keeping in mind that I had more important things to do than stay home in bed. I cringed at the thought of our friend and family doctor; seeing, inside my head, the lines on her aged forehead crease, with yet another blunder (the very same, in fact) that I was to commit. She had been advising me to take it slow and rest, as the work, academic and personal matters I had to attend to in the past months overwhelmed not just my spent spirit but also my fragile body.

I placed the back of my hand against my neck. It was not as bad as I thought, but I didn't want to take chances. I grabbed a glass of water and a tablet of paracetamol as I strode to my room.

I tidied my space before going to bed. A small butterfly fluttered away from my closet door as I pulled it open to keep the bag I used for the day. I then checked if everything I needed for work the next day was in my office bag. Sure that all was set, I let myself fall into the comforts of my sheets and everything around me quickly dissolved into darkness.

An hour or so passed when someone roused me from my sleep. I opened my eyes a little and battled with the brightness that bounced around the bedroom. I didn't realize I slipped to turn off the lights. When my eyes have finally adjusted, I did not find any other being in the room but for the small butterfly from earlier, perched on my lower right arm.

"My little boy," its female voice said, "My sickly, little boy."

A mix of joy and gloom erupted within my chest. She had long ago been gone but I could never forget—the croaked, sweet voice, the gentleness of the touch, the characteristic scent she carried from the kitchen, the warmth that wraps my skin each time she was around. We shared this room since I was a child, until it was time for her to go and move on.

"Grandma," I acknowledged with a smile. "Yes, I am sick again."

The butterfly started to take form. I could not figure its face, but the plumpness of the silhouette that glowed golden orange told me it was indeed my dear grandmother.

I made space on the bed and the figure took the place. It sat beside me while I remained lying down.

"You look fatigued," she said, sweeping her fingers through my hair. "I have never seen my boy this tired. Work and school did not treat you well the past few months."

I looked up and replied, "That's true. I have never been this tired my entire life. I have never slept a good five to six hours just to wake up tired. I have never had fully booked weekends. I underestimated the load work and school would give. I took on so many things. There was no turning back when I realized I couldn't do it."

"But you did." Her lips curved into the same crescent we would always wait for in the night sky when I was in kindergarten. She remained silent and continued streaking my hair, until:

"You didn't have to visit today," she commented. "You knew that going out to the heat of the sun would strain you. You should have taken the opportunity to rest."

I returned her smile and answered, "How can I not? It's the only thing I look forward to every after Halloween."

I closed my eyes and savored the warmth of her fingers brushing on my scalp. I could feel myself swimming, once again, toward the peaceful void of subconsciousness. We remained this way for quite a while; a few moments more and Grandma broke the silence once more.

"Does your back still hurt when you're sick?"

"Yes," I mumbled through sleepiness.

"Come here." She gently lifted my arms and wrapped them around her waist. I pushed myself up a little and rested my head on her lap. A palm went up and down my back, just right at where it hurt, with just the right amount of pressure, just how she would do it years back. The comforting effect was immediate.

"Thank you for visiting tonight." My eyes were closed and I could barely stay awake.

"Thank you for letting me," her sweet voice replied.

"Come anytime," I muttered. "Our no-visits-until-I-say-so agreement is long over."

I heard a chuckle that seemed to come from a distance. "Yes, you told me that when you visited two years ago."


* * *


My eyes shot open. I felt so much disoriented, not knowing what time it was, not even realizing that I dozed off. I tilted my head to the side. The wall clock read a bit past 9:30. I was asleep for a good 15 minutes.

Sensation started to return to my limbs, making me aware of something that I was holding in my hand. It was the bag I used earlier today, the last item I was to put away before going to bed.

I got up and went toward the closet. I have already pulled the door open when I realized there was a small butterfly perched on the surface, now flying away and exploring the expanse of the room that used to be hers.