As I walked on the slightly withered grass, the birds were no longer singing happily, it sounded more as if they were telling me to stop.
But I wasn't going to.
I need her too much.
And she left.
But she loves me, I know it.
That's why I'm doing it here, next to her lifeless body that's buried underground.
As I sat on my knees in front of her tombstone, I looked at the letters of her name careved onto the stone; "Lydia Rose".
My fingers tapped lightly on the date she passed, I felt liquid on my cheeks; tears.
I was too infatuated with the thought of her to notice the hot, salty tears sliding down my cheeks.
She passed away today, two years ago.
You'd think after so long, I would've gotten over it, right?
Well, no.
Everyday passing without her it hurts more.
Everyday I would come here to see her, talk to her.
My neighbors think I'm going insane because of that.
They think she doesn't listen. But I know she does, I know she's waiting for me.
In heaven.
How do I know she's in heaven and not hell?
Because she was an angel walking on earth waiting to be taken back home; heaven.
And I want to be with her more then anything.
More then dear life itself.
And I'm willing to give up everything to be there with her, to see her, the wrinkles on the sides on her eyes and the happy tears when I make her laugh, the jokingly pissed smile she used to give me during out tickle fights, the light pink blush she had when I looked at her with all the love that I could muster, the way her soft lips felt on mine while i held her close and brushed my hands through her shoulder-length loft dirty blond hair, the way we'd lay with my chest pressed to her back and whisper how much I love her, just... have her here with me.
Well, soon, I will have all of that, back.
I will be up there in just a few minutes, I just wanted to see her tombstone one last time, say goodbye to this lonely hell and go up to heaven and be with her.
As I took the gun out of the back of my jeans, I checked if it was loaded.
It was.
6 rounds.
I put the gun to my temple, my finger on the trigger, my heart pounding in my chest from excitement, and adrenaline.
I'm not going to stop now.
As my slim not-so-long fingers were about to press the trigger a quiet whisper was heared.
"Wait."
