The Last Goodbye

-Nah, it’s silly!

-Ah go on, the voice said!

I pressed the buzzer for the number 9 and waited a couple of seconds for the familiar sound but the glass door didn’t open. As I was about to turn around, an old lady opened the building door to get out. She gave me a quick scan and must have decided that I wasn’t a threat, so she held the door open for me. I casually thanked her, while pretending to be talking on the phone and walked straight to the elevator.

On the way up, of what it seems to be the slowest elevator in the world, I recalled the last time I was here. It was the 25^th of December 2017, Christmas day. I was excited to get on this same lift, to see that red tick door crack open and a familiar face greet me, followed by the most warming hug I have ever known, that hug that tells me I am safe, that this is what home feels like.  

The lift finally arrived to the 9^th floor and had now stopped. I got out to a dark corridor, the light turned on and I faced the door. I rehearsed what I was going to say and feeling confident about it I finally pressed the bell. No steps or voices animated the interior, no one came to open the door. I expected it that way, after all, you no longer live there and apparently no one else has moved in yet.     

The corridor light went off and I stayed there in the dark, looking through the peephole from which I couldn’t see a thing. I sat down on the steps just beside the door that lead to the top floor, tears rolling down my face. I cried with the realisation that that door would never open again, that I would never find that hug, that warm voice, that smiley face that had been there for me all these years. 

The memories of the moments I passed in this house with you, the games we played when I was a child, your guidance when I was a teenager, the conversations we had when I struggled with relationships, with college, with work and later over the last few years how I could only hold you in your fragility and how painful it was to see your existence slowly fading, slowly leaving us. 

But one thing is sure, your hugs never changed, and I will always remember our last one, the Christmas day after we said our goodbyes, as I was walking towards the lift crying I felt the urge to come back to give you one last hug. You were crying too when you saw me returning, and I guess somehow, on that moment we both knew this was going to be our last embrace.

The corridor light turned on as if activated by movement. I placed my hand on your door and said thank you, thank you for all that you were, for all that you gave me, for being there, thank you for all your Love.  Then I stepped on the lift and moved to my spot, my little corner, which you always reminded me when I was a kid that I use to say ‘o meu cantinho’- my little corner.

From today onwards, you will live in the little corner of my heart and that is where my safe place is, that is home.