I Can't Hold Back
Epilogue
They say no one forgets a tragedy. The Holocaust, the assassination of President Kennedy, the twin towers falling on 9/11…but none of those impacted me more than you. I wasn’t around for the first two, but I see how they affected society. You can read it in people’s faces when it’s brought up. That sense of horror as they begin to recall every last detail. That’s another thing with tragedy – you remember it all.
I was in third grade when New York City was attacked. I remember that entire day, piece by piece. That morning my mother made eggs and bacon. It was only the second or third day of school, so she wasn’t tired of cooking breakfast yet. My sister insisted on watching Rocket Power in the morning, even though I wanted to watch Scooby Doo. I hadn’t seen my dad all morning, but he usually left by the time I got up anyway. Then we walked to school, just like any normal day. We were just starting math class when my teacher received a phone call. I’ll never forget the look of fear on her face as the office secretary told her the news. Everyone else was talking and playing around, but I just watched her. I knew something bad had happened. Then she made an announcement that class was over for the day. All the kids asked questions as we packed our backpacks, but my teacher was too busy calling parents to answer them. One by one we all left, and when my mom came to get she wasn’t wearing any makeup. I know this probably doesn’t sound like a big deal, but my mother always wore makeup. She never left the house without it. She grabbed my hand and I saw Kennedy waiting by the front door, watching as everyone passed by. As we rushed down the street back home, I remember hearing the screams. We were on the other side of town as the towers, but I could still hear everyone scream. Then we started running. My mother cried as she ran us down the street, holding our heads close to her body. When we got home she brought us into the basement. As I walked down the stairs I saw the TV was already on, and my father was sitting in his arm chair watching the news. In my ten years of life I had never seen my father cry, but that day he was. He was sobbing as he watched the news recap what was happening, and that while we were walking home the second plane had hit. I watched in disbelief as they replayed the plane crashing into the building over and over again. I had felt safe my whole life, but I was more terrified than I could ever have imagined that day. You didn’t know this, but my father worked on the 72nd floor of the World Trade Center. He didn’t go to work that day because he woke up with a migraine. If he had my father would be dead. The thought still haunts me to this day.
But nothing haunts me more than you. I don’t want to talk about the phone calls, the ambulance, the hospital, the time of death…it’s all too fresh. It’s been a year but I still can’t face it. Everyday gets better and better, but it’s not enough. I’m not used to it, I still relapse. When something funny happens I always pick up the phone to call you. I miss your voice. I miss your laugh. I don’t like when I wake up and you’re not next to me. I still need you.
That’s why I started writing these letters. My doctor told me it would help with the grieving process. A year and I’m still grieving…you should feel proud of yourself. You made such a difference in my life that I don’t think I’ll ever stop grieving. I can see your smile as I write. Always so big and bright.
This past year has been a lot of I should haves. I should have taken more photos. Should have kissed you more. Should have gone to more places together. Should have loved you more…but all the things I should have done I no longer can. And most of all, I should have seen this coming.
Nothing’s been the same since the funeral. Your mom told us that the Irish tradition is to hold a wake. She described it as a party of some sort; where your casket would be in the middle of the room and the guests would drink and celebrate your life. But it wasn’t right. Your life was too short – it was nothing to celebrate. Instead we did the American tradition of black clothing and church procedures. It was even harder than I thought it’d be. Your family planned the entire thing, which I think took a toll on your mother. She couldn’t stop crying. I felt so bad for her. You were her baby and she lost you. I don’t think any mother expects her child to die before her. The pain is unbearable…I’ve been through it. But I didn’t even know my child. She raised you; watched you turn from a boy to a man. It’s not fair.
The service was hard on us all I guess. The boys were by my side the whole time; Liam never letting go of my hand. My speech was short; I couldn’t say much without crying. Your brother’s speech was my favorite. He talked about teaching you how to play football and how amazing it was to see you out in the world doing the thing you’ve always loved. The boys had planned on singing Moments, but they couldn’t without you there. They said it wasn’t right. So instead, they wrote you a song. “Niall’s Song.” Just the thought of it brings a tear to my eye. There was no music – it was all a cappella. I have never heard something more beautiful in my entire life. They sang about the difference you made in their lives, and how you’re never not in their thoughts. One of my favorite lyrics was something Harry sang, “my heart won’t beat without screaming your name.” But the part that sent me over the edge was the chorus – “And if I listen closely I can still hear your laugh. But I don’t wanna forget, no I never want to forget…because you’ll always be my best friend.”
That was their last song ever together you know. They released it on CD shortly after the funeral. It was the only track, and a photo of you all at my birthday party was on the cover. You looked so happy and carefree. They never performed it live again because they said it wouldn’t be as special anymore. They didn’t even want the public to hear, but I know you would want them to. You loved your fans more than anything, and one last song could give everyone some closure.
It sold more copies than any of your other CDs combined. The boys didn’t keep a dime of it though, it was all donated to the charity they started up, “Horan’s Help.” It’s a suicide help-center for teens and young adults. It’s a safe haven – a place for them to get away and take a break from all their misery. The boys go all the time and talk to whomever is in trouble. Liam is there the most, starting crafts and projects to keep them occupied. I go twice a week, hoping that I’ll be able to save someone…even though I couldn’t save you.
I didn’t go back to school. I take online classes here and there, but I won’t be graduating any time soon. I honestly don’t see the point anymore…in anything. I’ve thought about joining you…forgetting everything and just taking the next step. But I can’t. I know you don’t want me to. You want me to grow old and start a family – a family we couldn’t start together.
And the boys…I don’t know what to do with them. Technically the band is still together, but they never do appearances anymore. Zayn left completely. He said he didn’t want to sing anymore, and broke all his contracts with management. He went back to Perrie after a few months and now they’re engaged again. I think he needed someone that reminded him of his past with you, and unfortunately for Kim she was more of his present. She was content with it though, and is doing just fine on her own. I haven’t spoken to Zayn in weeks, but Perrie and I talk a lot so I know he’s fine. He’s an artist now, and most of the time his paintings are of you. One is even in the MET in New York. He’s been nominated for countless awards, but he never accepts them. Says it’s not the same if you can’t accept it with him.
Louis and Eleanor are doing great in London. They moved in together and have a gorgeous house. Louis couldn’t handle being in LA anymore. I think being back home was what he needed to grieve. He didn’t have his partner in crime anymore. No one else would pull antics like you two, and I think LA reminded him too much of the pain. So he moved away, but we still keep in touch. Louis’ started working with Modest more, and said hopefully soon he’ll be a producer for them. He loves helping others make music, and for the first time in a while I see he’s happy. He loved writing songs with you, and I think he continues to do it because that’s a bond he and you will always have. He told me in secret that he wants to propose to Eleanor soon, and I can’t be happier for them. They’re perfect for each other.
Liam’s been good, but he wants to stay out of the spotlight for now. Like I said he’s usually at the center, but when he’s not he’s doing other charitable things on the down low. I think he feels as though he needs to give back to the community because he was selfish before. Of course this isn’t true, but for him he needs to give in order to be an equal. With your passing I think he feels like he never knew all that he had, and now he doesn’t want any of it. God bless him. He’s been my hero throughout everything. Every Sunday he comes over and bakes me dinner while we watch a movie. He would come over more often, but most of the time he’s helping Harry because he’s so worried.
Because Harry…he’s helpless. I’ve never seen him so depressed. He can’t eat, he can’t sleep…he’s a wreck without his best friend. He was suicidal the first week after it happened. Liam wouldn’t leave his side…we were so afraid. He kept saying that there was no point in living. Half of the reason they built the center was to help him. He went to classes all the time just to talk about his feelings. He’s still low, but at least we’re comfortable leaving him alone now. He’s been out drinking and partying more and more, and he’s been named the new “heartbreaker” of Hollywood. But you see they don’t know the real reason he’s acting this way. It’s because as long as he has someone new in his bed every night he’s not alone. He says he doesn’t care what they think, but I know he does. When I go over to bring him groceries sometimes I hear him crying in his room. The poor guy is miserable. Liam said we should start inviting him to our Sunday dinners so he has a sense of dependability back in his life – something he can look forward to happening no matter what. I’m all for it, and I’m hoping we can bring him back to his old self in no time.
There’s a gala at the center tonight. It’s to honor you after a year of death. One year. God, it feels like just yesterday you were holding my hand and kissing my face. I dream about you all the time, hoping I’ll never stop. When I’m in my dreams with you I feel happy again. Promise me you’ll be with me at the gala tonight, and I promise I won’t let anyone ever forget you. I love you, Niall…forever.
As I put down my pen, I heard my phone ring from across the room. I walked over to it and I smiled as I read the text from Liam. All the boys were back in town for the event tonight, and in honor of Niall they all wanted to get a tattoo. I traced the picture he sent me with my finger, tearing up at the gesture. Above each of their hearts was “Forever Young. Niall Horan 1993-2014,” with Niall’s name his own signature. I let the tears fall as I put my phone back down, getting more excited for my own tattoo. I had planned on getting it this weekend; a tattoo in Niall’s handwriting from the birthday card he gave me on my 21st. It said “I love you princess.” All the boys promised to go with me seeing as how it was my first, and probably only, tattoo. I needed it though; I needed something to always look at when I was feeling sad. Niall was the only boy I ever truly loved, and I was ready to spend the rest of my life with him. But now…now that chance was gone.
My whole body ached as I left my bedroom and went downstairs. I need some water, something to fill my stomach. My eyes were puffy and sore from crying last night. When I had received my dress for the gala I felt like breaking down. This wasn’t fair. I should be attending events with my boyfriend, not in honor of him. I held my stomach as I grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it. This was all too real again. Getting the water, finding the letter…it was a horrible reoccurrence of déjà vu. I had played a thousand scenarios in my head of what I could have done. Gotten home earlier; called him when he had texted me; thrown away the pills long before he came back home. It made me sick to my stomach…I felt empty. All the love that was inside my body was gone and it was like I was just a hollow casing.
Because being in love…being in love is like for once, everything is going your way. Your whole world is brighter, and you see things differently. It’s like opening presents on Christmas morning and getting everything you wanted. And when he enters the room, your world stops, and you hold your breath until you hear what he has to say. You feel like you’re floating whenever he holds your hand, and when he kisses you it’s magical. But then, once that love is gone… it’s like you have nothing. You don’t even want to move because your whole body is numb. And you think to yourself, was it even real? But if it wasn’t, then why does it hurt this bad? That’s how strong love is, though. It’s absolutely beautiful, yet unbelievably tragic.
I heard the doorbell ring and broke my thoughts. Who was visiting me so early? The event wasn’t for another couple of hours, and I hadn’t invited anyone over. It could be the UPS guy. I had ordered a package a few days ago. It was a frame for my favorite photo of Niall and me. I was now excited as I turned the knob, wondering where exactly I would place the picture frame. The door opened and I saw a glance of a One Direction band t-shirt and pigtails before the pistol of a gun was shoved in my face.
Bang!
I was in third grade when New York City was attacked. I remember that entire day, piece by piece. That morning my mother made eggs and bacon. It was only the second or third day of school, so she wasn’t tired of cooking breakfast yet. My sister insisted on watching Rocket Power in the morning, even though I wanted to watch Scooby Doo. I hadn’t seen my dad all morning, but he usually left by the time I got up anyway. Then we walked to school, just like any normal day. We were just starting math class when my teacher received a phone call. I’ll never forget the look of fear on her face as the office secretary told her the news. Everyone else was talking and playing around, but I just watched her. I knew something bad had happened. Then she made an announcement that class was over for the day. All the kids asked questions as we packed our backpacks, but my teacher was too busy calling parents to answer them. One by one we all left, and when my mom came to get she wasn’t wearing any makeup. I know this probably doesn’t sound like a big deal, but my mother always wore makeup. She never left the house without it. She grabbed my hand and I saw Kennedy waiting by the front door, watching as everyone passed by. As we rushed down the street back home, I remember hearing the screams. We were on the other side of town as the towers, but I could still hear everyone scream. Then we started running. My mother cried as she ran us down the street, holding our heads close to her body. When we got home she brought us into the basement. As I walked down the stairs I saw the TV was already on, and my father was sitting in his arm chair watching the news. In my ten years of life I had never seen my father cry, but that day he was. He was sobbing as he watched the news recap what was happening, and that while we were walking home the second plane had hit. I watched in disbelief as they replayed the plane crashing into the building over and over again. I had felt safe my whole life, but I was more terrified than I could ever have imagined that day. You didn’t know this, but my father worked on the 72nd floor of the World Trade Center. He didn’t go to work that day because he woke up with a migraine. If he had my father would be dead. The thought still haunts me to this day.
But nothing haunts me more than you. I don’t want to talk about the phone calls, the ambulance, the hospital, the time of death…it’s all too fresh. It’s been a year but I still can’t face it. Everyday gets better and better, but it’s not enough. I’m not used to it, I still relapse. When something funny happens I always pick up the phone to call you. I miss your voice. I miss your laugh. I don’t like when I wake up and you’re not next to me. I still need you.
That’s why I started writing these letters. My doctor told me it would help with the grieving process. A year and I’m still grieving…you should feel proud of yourself. You made such a difference in my life that I don’t think I’ll ever stop grieving. I can see your smile as I write. Always so big and bright.
This past year has been a lot of I should haves. I should have taken more photos. Should have kissed you more. Should have gone to more places together. Should have loved you more…but all the things I should have done I no longer can. And most of all, I should have seen this coming.
Nothing’s been the same since the funeral. Your mom told us that the Irish tradition is to hold a wake. She described it as a party of some sort; where your casket would be in the middle of the room and the guests would drink and celebrate your life. But it wasn’t right. Your life was too short – it was nothing to celebrate. Instead we did the American tradition of black clothing and church procedures. It was even harder than I thought it’d be. Your family planned the entire thing, which I think took a toll on your mother. She couldn’t stop crying. I felt so bad for her. You were her baby and she lost you. I don’t think any mother expects her child to die before her. The pain is unbearable…I’ve been through it. But I didn’t even know my child. She raised you; watched you turn from a boy to a man. It’s not fair.
The service was hard on us all I guess. The boys were by my side the whole time; Liam never letting go of my hand. My speech was short; I couldn’t say much without crying. Your brother’s speech was my favorite. He talked about teaching you how to play football and how amazing it was to see you out in the world doing the thing you’ve always loved. The boys had planned on singing Moments, but they couldn’t without you there. They said it wasn’t right. So instead, they wrote you a song. “Niall’s Song.” Just the thought of it brings a tear to my eye. There was no music – it was all a cappella. I have never heard something more beautiful in my entire life. They sang about the difference you made in their lives, and how you’re never not in their thoughts. One of my favorite lyrics was something Harry sang, “my heart won’t beat without screaming your name.” But the part that sent me over the edge was the chorus – “And if I listen closely I can still hear your laugh. But I don’t wanna forget, no I never want to forget…because you’ll always be my best friend.”
That was their last song ever together you know. They released it on CD shortly after the funeral. It was the only track, and a photo of you all at my birthday party was on the cover. You looked so happy and carefree. They never performed it live again because they said it wouldn’t be as special anymore. They didn’t even want the public to hear, but I know you would want them to. You loved your fans more than anything, and one last song could give everyone some closure.
It sold more copies than any of your other CDs combined. The boys didn’t keep a dime of it though, it was all donated to the charity they started up, “Horan’s Help.” It’s a suicide help-center for teens and young adults. It’s a safe haven – a place for them to get away and take a break from all their misery. The boys go all the time and talk to whomever is in trouble. Liam is there the most, starting crafts and projects to keep them occupied. I go twice a week, hoping that I’ll be able to save someone…even though I couldn’t save you.
I didn’t go back to school. I take online classes here and there, but I won’t be graduating any time soon. I honestly don’t see the point anymore…in anything. I’ve thought about joining you…forgetting everything and just taking the next step. But I can’t. I know you don’t want me to. You want me to grow old and start a family – a family we couldn’t start together.
And the boys…I don’t know what to do with them. Technically the band is still together, but they never do appearances anymore. Zayn left completely. He said he didn’t want to sing anymore, and broke all his contracts with management. He went back to Perrie after a few months and now they’re engaged again. I think he needed someone that reminded him of his past with you, and unfortunately for Kim she was more of his present. She was content with it though, and is doing just fine on her own. I haven’t spoken to Zayn in weeks, but Perrie and I talk a lot so I know he’s fine. He’s an artist now, and most of the time his paintings are of you. One is even in the MET in New York. He’s been nominated for countless awards, but he never accepts them. Says it’s not the same if you can’t accept it with him.
Louis and Eleanor are doing great in London. They moved in together and have a gorgeous house. Louis couldn’t handle being in LA anymore. I think being back home was what he needed to grieve. He didn’t have his partner in crime anymore. No one else would pull antics like you two, and I think LA reminded him too much of the pain. So he moved away, but we still keep in touch. Louis’ started working with Modest more, and said hopefully soon he’ll be a producer for them. He loves helping others make music, and for the first time in a while I see he’s happy. He loved writing songs with you, and I think he continues to do it because that’s a bond he and you will always have. He told me in secret that he wants to propose to Eleanor soon, and I can’t be happier for them. They’re perfect for each other.
Liam’s been good, but he wants to stay out of the spotlight for now. Like I said he’s usually at the center, but when he’s not he’s doing other charitable things on the down low. I think he feels as though he needs to give back to the community because he was selfish before. Of course this isn’t true, but for him he needs to give in order to be an equal. With your passing I think he feels like he never knew all that he had, and now he doesn’t want any of it. God bless him. He’s been my hero throughout everything. Every Sunday he comes over and bakes me dinner while we watch a movie. He would come over more often, but most of the time he’s helping Harry because he’s so worried.
Because Harry…he’s helpless. I’ve never seen him so depressed. He can’t eat, he can’t sleep…he’s a wreck without his best friend. He was suicidal the first week after it happened. Liam wouldn’t leave his side…we were so afraid. He kept saying that there was no point in living. Half of the reason they built the center was to help him. He went to classes all the time just to talk about his feelings. He’s still low, but at least we’re comfortable leaving him alone now. He’s been out drinking and partying more and more, and he’s been named the new “heartbreaker” of Hollywood. But you see they don’t know the real reason he’s acting this way. It’s because as long as he has someone new in his bed every night he’s not alone. He says he doesn’t care what they think, but I know he does. When I go over to bring him groceries sometimes I hear him crying in his room. The poor guy is miserable. Liam said we should start inviting him to our Sunday dinners so he has a sense of dependability back in his life – something he can look forward to happening no matter what. I’m all for it, and I’m hoping we can bring him back to his old self in no time.
There’s a gala at the center tonight. It’s to honor you after a year of death. One year. God, it feels like just yesterday you were holding my hand and kissing my face. I dream about you all the time, hoping I’ll never stop. When I’m in my dreams with you I feel happy again. Promise me you’ll be with me at the gala tonight, and I promise I won’t let anyone ever forget you. I love you, Niall…forever.
As I put down my pen, I heard my phone ring from across the room. I walked over to it and I smiled as I read the text from Liam. All the boys were back in town for the event tonight, and in honor of Niall they all wanted to get a tattoo. I traced the picture he sent me with my finger, tearing up at the gesture. Above each of their hearts was “Forever Young. Niall Horan 1993-2014,” with Niall’s name his own signature. I let the tears fall as I put my phone back down, getting more excited for my own tattoo. I had planned on getting it this weekend; a tattoo in Niall’s handwriting from the birthday card he gave me on my 21st. It said “I love you princess.” All the boys promised to go with me seeing as how it was my first, and probably only, tattoo. I needed it though; I needed something to always look at when I was feeling sad. Niall was the only boy I ever truly loved, and I was ready to spend the rest of my life with him. But now…now that chance was gone.
My whole body ached as I left my bedroom and went downstairs. I need some water, something to fill my stomach. My eyes were puffy and sore from crying last night. When I had received my dress for the gala I felt like breaking down. This wasn’t fair. I should be attending events with my boyfriend, not in honor of him. I held my stomach as I grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it. This was all too real again. Getting the water, finding the letter…it was a horrible reoccurrence of déjà vu. I had played a thousand scenarios in my head of what I could have done. Gotten home earlier; called him when he had texted me; thrown away the pills long before he came back home. It made me sick to my stomach…I felt empty. All the love that was inside my body was gone and it was like I was just a hollow casing.
Because being in love…being in love is like for once, everything is going your way. Your whole world is brighter, and you see things differently. It’s like opening presents on Christmas morning and getting everything you wanted. And when he enters the room, your world stops, and you hold your breath until you hear what he has to say. You feel like you’re floating whenever he holds your hand, and when he kisses you it’s magical. But then, once that love is gone… it’s like you have nothing. You don’t even want to move because your whole body is numb. And you think to yourself, was it even real? But if it wasn’t, then why does it hurt this bad? That’s how strong love is, though. It’s absolutely beautiful, yet unbelievably tragic.
I heard the doorbell ring and broke my thoughts. Who was visiting me so early? The event wasn’t for another couple of hours, and I hadn’t invited anyone over. It could be the UPS guy. I had ordered a package a few days ago. It was a frame for my favorite photo of Niall and me. I was now excited as I turned the knob, wondering where exactly I would place the picture frame. The door opened and I saw a glance of a One Direction band t-shirt and pigtails before the pistol of a gun was shoved in my face.
Bang!
Oh my gosh! The ending has left me crying! This story is filled with too much tragedy!
11/10/14