From that day on, it has become my anchor, my haven of peace and my horizon. He offered me his own room, stubbornly tamed my unruly curls by consulting online tutorials, and his consistency was a solid reference point at every milestone in my schooling. His loyalty was my bulwark.
Our daily life was simple, it's a reality. Far-flung destinations, designer clothes or expensive gifts were not part of our landscape. Faced with each slightly audacious desire, the same retort, affectionate but categorical, arose:
"It's not within our possibilities, my dear."
I hated this sentence. For me, it represented an insurmountable limit placed in front of all my dreams.
Gradually, a form of resentment germinated in me. I was ashamed of it, but this frustration persisted. He had told me again that I could do anything, but reality seemed to keep calling us to order.
The anguish that dissolves grievances
Then, the disease burst into our lives. The burly man who supported our duo started to get out of breath as he climbed the stairs. Our resources did not allow us to call on a carer, so our positions were exchanged: I became her support.
Between two revision sessions for the baccalaureate, I prepared his dishes, helped him move around and meticulously monitored his medication.
One evening, when he seemed weaker than usual, he looked at me with unusual gravity:
"Camille, we absolutely have to talk."
I suggested that he postpone this exchange. We would have plenty of time afterwards, I persuaded myself.
This famous "after" never happened.
He passed away serenely in his sleep, leaving me alone to face the deafening silence of the house and a future that frightened me.
