since Nov. 26, 2004.The rain beats down upon my windows as I sit in the darkness. The pitter-patter of raindrops makes a light tapping sound which penetrates the silence of my room. I feel as mechanical as a robot when I turn to glance at the pictures hanging all around. Your face stares back at mine--happy, joyous, oblivious to the fate in which you have succumbed.
My dress scratches my skin as I move to lie down. It is black, as black as the hearse that carried you to your final resting place. My head rests gently on my pillow; I close my eyes to drink in its softness, the first comfort I’d felt in days. The warmth of my blankets remind me of the shocking coolness your cheek felt when I kissed you for the last time. I try to blink back a tear, but it travels down my face and rests on my chin.
Why has life been so unfair? my heart screams. Why is your life over? It should have been me. Oh, Lord, I should have been the one to go; why did it have to be you? I turn over, realizing my questions will never be answered and I must overcome the heavy weight of sorrow in my heart. An impossible task, I sigh.
Despite everything, life still goes on and things are bound to brighten in the future. There will come a time when my heart will no longer ache and the sleepless nights will vanish. Until my broken heart is healed, I’ll spend my days alone; but in my solitude, I’ll have the memories of you to move me forward.
Copyright © 1998, Talia M. Wilson
since Nov. 26, 2004.