The word we found was monkey. It was accompanied by a proverb we adore, that says that even monkeys fall from trees. And since farewell was in the same page, we imagined a wake, with a mournful mother saying goodbye.
Once upon a time there was a little monkey that made a mistake. He fell, never to return to the crown of the trees. Leaves fall, like tears, but it is not for him. For that little monkey light trickles through the leaves. That is how trees mourn. The tears are for someone that didn’t make any mistakes, and still was forced to say goodbye. The tears are for a monkey, for a mother that couldn’t find the words to say goodbye. Not then. And now digs a hole in the ground, to give what she has finally found to the remains of the little monkey that she once called hers.
I won’t waste my tears imagining a painful fall. I won’t fall. Even if someone were to push me, I wouldn’t worry. Because I am half lion, and I know that I would land on my feet.
I don’t like looking up, because the sky is empty and I have to do all the work. I have to imagine everything. My dreams. My aspirations. My future. Lucky for me, I can always look down. At that ground full of fallen little monkeys, that bring to life a thousand different failures.
My best friend fell and I cried. I would have liked to say goodbye properly. With words to remember who he was to me, the loss and how his friendship made me a better person. But I only had empty tears, that didn’t feel like the farewell he deserved. I feel guilty. Because I cried, unable to find those words.
They told me to cry, that when you lose someone you have to cry. But I didn’t have tears. I only had words. A whole life. Our friendship. But they didn’t let me speak. They didn’t let me say goodbye like I needed to. Because, according to them, if there are no tears there is no love, there is no right to say goodbye.
The worst thing about having fallen is that I don’t see the ground. I still look at the branches where the other little monkeys hang from the tree. I see their tears, the ones that they shed because of me. I see them fall. Reminding me that that is what happened to me. I fell. And I will keep falling. Along with every one of those tears.
I know you have the best intentions, that you only want to encourage me and take the pressure away, but that is not what I need to hear. Every time you say that even monkeys fall from trees, you put that failure in front of my eyes, where only my dreams should be.
I remember the promises, they all sound alike. Like empty tears. Pretty words that no one intends to fulfill. Someone promised to me too, that they would catch me, that they wouldn’t let me fall. We intertwined our tails and together we hung from the branches of our tree. We promised to help each other, to catch the other if one of us were to slip. But only I ended up on the ground. Just like you. I. And the tears my friend let fall in his stead.
I fell and I don’t hear anything you say. Your words are diluted by the tears you shed, by the pity you feel for me. That wet paper has no meaning. But I am not allowed to use the same excuse. I have to keep my words to myself, because you would hear them loud and clear. I know that they would hurt you, and you wouldn’t allow the fact that I fell to dilute them.
What comfort do you expect me to find in those tears that fall just like I did? Comfort should help me to get back up on my feet. It shouldn’t make me sink deeper into the ground.
Comfort is knowing that you are not alone in your suffering, that someone else shares that pain with you. I guess I should thank all those little monkeys for the tears they shed to keep me company. It’s the polite thing to do.
From down here I can see that water makes plants grow. And I don’t see a reason why the tears of those little monkeys wouldn’t do the same for me. Make me grow. Help me to get back on my feet.
You say that even monkeys fall from trees. You say that to comfort the ones that show promise. Where is the comfort for those of us that aren’t monkeys? Don’t I matter enough to be given comfort too? If you expect me to fall, not just once but as a rule, shouldn’t your comfort be for me?
