/1

The boy often said ‘sorry’ and ‘thank you’. For small and simple things, from fetching tools or a wheelchair, or even for pizza and coffee deliveries on weekends. On relaxed days, he sometimes watched French TV series without subtitles, and sometimes old episodes of Star Trek, which I often followed on weekends too.

He preferred to be called ‘Hakim’, after the first part of his name. Some friends knew him as ‘Sora’ through his writings. He was also my twin brother, until he passed away some time ago.

Today I don’t want to talk about his death. Today I want to write about his life.

/3

“No need, it’s okay. We have plenty of time,” he said. To which I immediately replied, “Just use it for now.”

We were at the hospital then. It was late afternoon turning into evening, and I noticed that he was still using an old model charger for his mobile phone. A few minutes earlier I was tidying up the room when he casually mentioned that his phone battery was almost dead.

“Use mine, it’s fast charging,” I said, as I plugged it into his phone cable. “I already have a new one. Just use it.”

To which he responded as above. At that time, I didn’t think much of it.

“Take it, I’ll put it here later,” I said. “It should be done in an hour.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

I just shrugged. “Relax,” I replied, placing the phone by the bedside. I plugged the charger into the outlet above the head of the bed.

‘We have plenty of time,’ he said. When I think about it again these days, it feels not entirely accurate. Because in the days that followed, I could no longer hear his voice.

/4

Intensive care unit. The atmosphere was quiet, visitors were restricted, but as the patient’s guardian, I could enter the room several times to meet nurses and doctors and for other administrative purposes.

“Hello,” I said, “It’s Wednesday afternoon, 1:30 PM. You’re in the ICU right now. I just met the doctors and nurses.”

In the early days of his hospital stay, with so many things happening that confused him, we found that knowing his position and time seemed to calm him down. So I usually summarized the time, location, and situation whenever I could see him.

The patient’s condition was somnolent—basically semi-conscious, although still able to respond to touch and sound—and with that state, at least we could still communicate. His eyes were closed, his general condition was weak, but at least my voice reached him and he could respond with a weak ‘oh’ or ‘hi’. I told him a few things and conveyed messages from relatives and friends, some planning to visit.

“And also—” I choked up. In the end, I also had to say all this, while I still could.

“And also I’m sorry,” I said. “For everything. I’m sorry for all my shortcomings all this time. For myself, I have also forgiven, we are good to each other, you don’t have to worry. Thank you, thank you…”

I choked up. Again. My throat burned.

I briefly noticed tears trickling from his left side. I also briefly heard him respond with a weak ‘hoh’, which I often understood as an affirmation of ‘yes’ and agreement between us in many things.

I turned away. Stepped to the window. I felt my eyes wet. People say men don’t cry. That’s a lie.

/2

At that time, we were watching a series via Jellyfin at home. Usually, on weekend afternoons like this, we spent time with coffee and snacks, watching whatever and talking casually.

That afternoon, we were watching an episode of the animated series Gudetama. The story was a slightly absurd comedy about the adventures of an egg and a chick exploring the world, and at that moment we were just observing the small chaos on the screen.

I remember us shaking our heads slightly at the absurd scene on the screen (which was actually funny). But in the end, they managed to find soy sauce and Gudetama didn’t rot, then the episode ended.

“Hoh,” he commented, “People really like to prolong life…”

I remember I just laughed. Indeed, that’s how it is for many of us, many humans. I remember then I sipped Coffeemix with hot water from a thermos. In front of him, as usual, a teapot filled with brewed tea leaves from a Cap Botol package with water that had just been boiled a few minutes earlier.

/6

Weeks, months, and years passed, and here we are. These days I’m back to watching Star Trek, sometimes also watching version francaise on TV5MONDE, and with all of that, I think we’re also getting used to losses.

Although it’s not always easy. I mean, literally, I met that kid before I was born, so how do I put it?

Today is October 14th. Happy birthday, kid. Back then, we couldn’t always talk much about this, but anyway, often there weren’t many words needed between us. For me, it’s enough, I guess for you too.

In the end, I guess I just want to say ‘thank you’. I hope this writing isn’t too bad in conveying it.

/5

In the months after his passing, in a dream one night that felt a little strange, I remember meeting him.

We met at night. We were in a place like a playground or a city park. Stars above our heads. He seemed to be standing and walking around, something I hadn’t seen him do in a long time.

We chatted briefly. I noticed he looked calm and relaxed, occasionally walking around and crouching to observe the grass in the park. Eventually, in time, I said goodbye.

“I’m leaving first,” I said.

“Hm,”

“I told dad you’d be a little late.”

“Okay.”

When I woke up, as usual, not many words were needed. But as usual too, for me, this was enough.