Along the Streets of Antibes

December 5, 2022 The white ceiling of my apartment is growing older each day. I'm tired of looking at it, sick of waking up at 5:00 am to go to the gym, do my morning routine, go to Perelman, come back to this apartment at 6:00 pm, run, eat, sleep, and repeat the same s**t the next day. I used to love these things back in the day. I used to enjoy med school. I used to anticipate the next morning because it brought me closer to that day where I would be finally inside the OR with my brother. I used to feel that way, but not anymore. Mike died last September. When he died, it felt like the whole family died with him. When my brother left us after secretly battling colon cancer, it felt like I left this world and went with him wherever he is now. I don't want to believe that it's my fault that he died, as Mom put it. We both knew he had little time left to live. The best doctors in the US gave him 5 months, and we chose to keep it between us. He begged me not to tell anyone, especially Mom and Dad. I did what he wanted, but in the end, I'm left alone with guilt haunting me. "If you had told us about your brother's condition, we would have searched the whole world to find a health institution that would focus on curing him. But you didn't, and it's your fault that he died like that..." "Hon, Mike only had 5 months to live. It's hard to accept, but no matter what we did, he would have still left us." "No! He could have lived a little longer if Blue had told us about his cancer. You're always siding with him. What's wrong with you?" "Lany, I'm not taking sides." Mom doesn't like me. She didn't want me from the moment I entered their home. I can see it in the lines of her face, the way her mouth twitches whenever Dad's hand is on my shoulder, the way she looks at me with those eyes, with little to no affection. I don't expect her to love me like she carried me for 9 months because, after all, I'm not Mike, I'm not her son. It's been over 2 months since Mike died. It's been over 2 months since my world started to feel like nothing. It's empty, everything feels heavy. I have to force myself to get out of bed and face a new day that I don't even know if I want. It's lonely. Without him, my life is so quiet. I long to hear his voice, to see his face, even his shadow...once again. Since my mom left me when I was in 5th grade, I swore that she would be the last person I would miss. I despise missing someone. I don't like the feeling of wanting to be with someone again, to reminisce about memories with them. But it seems the universe has conspired to make me suffer because I'm f*****g missing him, and God, I swear I hate every minute of it. When Mom completely erased any trace of me in our house by deciding that it's time for me to leave their residence, I didn't have a choice but to pack my things. Dad tried hard to convince Mom to change her mind, but as expected, he failed. "I will keep in touch with you, Blue. Don't worry, I'm going to fix this. I know you're going to be alright, son. Let's just wait until your Mom cools down, and everything will be..." he sighed. "You're going to go back home again, I promise." I'm lucky to have him as a father. He's the father my biological mom wasn't able to give to me. However, deep down, I know it's quite impossible. There's a high chance that I will never step foot in that house again because it's not just Mom who's holding a grudge against me, but Grandma and Aunt Lily too. That's why, before I left the house that sheltered me when I was supposed to be in a foster home, I entered Mike's room and picked up his journals. I don't know why I did that. I think that's the reason why I'm suffering so much right now. Reading his entries makes me so sad. They fill the apartment with longing and regrets. He loved to write about his day and his travels. He was a busy person, an Anesthesiologist, he dedicated most of his time to the OR. I'm amazed at how he still managed to travel throughout Europe despite his demanding profession. "I lived a good life, a beautiful life. Looking back, and I'm not bragging, but I can't recall many difficult moments. You know, those tough moments in life, I didn't have many. I became what I wanted, I lived a life on my terms. I had a beautiful fiancee, a happy family, I traveled Europe, and I had a cool brother. That's enough. I'm not going to complain about anything because I already had everything." He said that when I asked him why he was so laid back when he only had 5 months to live. Reading his journals, his travel entries, makes me want to go to the places he went to. To eat the cuisine he tried, to meet the people he met along Europe, to feel what he felt while experiencing what he described as "a type of euphoria that's incomparable to anything." That's what I want right now. To travel, to escape from this place. To have a change of scenery, maybe that will ease what I'm going through at the moment. The problem is, how can I travel when I'm halfway through graduating from Pre-medical school? I can't just easily take an off-week, even though anyone who sees me right now would conclude that I need a break from everything, including university. Forget about taking an off-week, what I need is a pause. Like a time freeze, but instead you're not saying it so someone you're playing with, but with life. I remember Mike saying this to me when I was in my second year in Pennsylvania. "Don't take a week-long break, it's not even a break. It's like a blink of an eye for medical students. Take a whole year instead. Rest. Avoid everything if you want. Hibernate if you want. Go to a place you've never been if you want." I can't believe that came from an Anesthesiologist who only had 5 hours of sleep in most days of the week. I know that's Mike's way of saying to me that I should travel. Should I leave everything here and just be gone for a year?