A white lie (the opaque truth)

I cannot tell a lie

I will never tell a lie

Oh that last one was a lie

Is there such thing as a white lie?

A lie that does not hold account for sin. A lie that if told, the heavens might overlook. A lie that is susceptible to no fault or damage. The lie that pulses truth. The lie that serves as a bulletproof vest made of refrained words. The lie that’s told when the thirst for truth has dried up your bones and the tap flowing with water of that “white lie”, stares you in the eye and leaves you no other choice but to drink from it. The lie that becomes your talisman and guide when you’re lost way deep in the shadow land. Not that kind of lie that you frown upon your affections and wear your heart up your sleeves. No, not that, far from it. Let me tell you about that lie.

A white lie

 

April and May were twin sisters. They both were intrigued by travelling the world and exploring it. They were energetic, influential and wild. They worked for and supported the empowerment of young and energy driven women around the world. They were independent and determined and fraught with complacency and enthusiasm. However April soon became very ill. She was diagnosed with Acute Myelogenous Leukemia.

 

 

“Acute Myelogenous Leukemia ( AML ) is a cancer of the blood and bone marrow – the spongy tissue inside bones where blood cells are made.”

 

It had affected her liver, lymph nodes and spinal cords. So she couldn’t walk. It felt as if the rest of the world was moving forward but she was standing still. Her life was driven by a still voice reliant on hopes and dreams that she might still get back to helping others when she gets better. She had faith and hope. She spent most of her time in the hospital taking hundreds of test and diverse treatments that seemed to be painstakingly repeated but still offered no ideological improvements whatsoever. She had had chemotherapy, radiation therapy and bone marrow transplant. All of which had proven abortive. She had headaches, shortness of breath, cold and dizziness. Also a swollen belly from leukemia cells in her liver.

April laid on her deathbed, and death arms ever so nearly, closed locked, in sweet embrace, waiting to kiss her to eternal sleep. She was a full bowl of complete mess with no other joy to stifle the pain. Tomorrow felt like an infinite roller coaster diffusing bleak sadness. Tomorrow held no promise as the final moment was near. Her ego and self-esteem had lost its lure. Her passion and enthusiasm was wrecked and ruined. All there was left of her was a weeping cloud, despairingly drifting its moment in tears and pain. The pain felt unbearably heavy and she kept screaming bargains at the sound of crashing waves.

“We’ve tried everything there is but her condition shows no improvement. All we can do right now is to try to keep her as comfortable as possible until she goes. She has at most two days. I’m very sorry, The doctor told May.”

What did the doctor say? April asked.

You’re doing great. You’re doing fine. You’re so strong. It’s going to be better. Hang in there. You can do this. There’s hope. Don’t give up.

May stuck to this lie because time approached with death being what her sister feared. She had to lie.

She told the most genuine and sincere lie ever because her pain can’t be fixed. There were no shortcuts. She could not add to the preexisting sorrow that had lingered in her heart. She had to lie. That lie never gets old

She told a white lie

And that’s the opaque truth.

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