i think the worst part was after. of course, finding out is so incredibly hard. it scars permanently, and every time i close my eyes, i can still see it. that kind of fear is a once in a lifetime thing, but this... this part is the worst.
pulling myself up out of bed the day after, even though every single piece of me screamed for you. and the questions, oh god the questions. there was no closure, there never will be. our apartment was perfectly-big-enough-for-both-of-us, but without you it feels much too big for me. i couldnt leave the apartment, i couldnt bear to walk past every little thing that would remind me of you. i took pictures of you and your gorgeous green eyes as you stood in front of the small amalgamation of weeds and plants in the front of the building. i always said how they matched your eyes so perfectly. green felt like you, always. time always went by so fast with you. i cant understand now how a minute feels like an hour. i swear each day feels like an entire week and its so hard to do anything anymore. i noticed how bad it was when the dishes started piling up so i had to start stacking them outside the sink. i couldnt stand to wash them, because now you would not be hugging me from behind as i did. no warm smile, no kisses on my shoulder. now, the kitchen was grey and empty and the blinds were always drawn. no sunlight, no warmth. you left everything so cold. i knew you werent okay when i started coming home to the quiet. i tried so hard to help. anything i could do, but you always told me you were just tired; to leave it alone. and eventually i did. but 5 pm was too early for you to be in bed. you would usually watch tv or play some games until i got home, then we would have our own movie nights, but not anymore. then, id come home and you would be lying down in our bed, facing the wall. all the lights would be off. if i had known you were... i started calling out from work more. this past week has made me ache in a way ive never been able to describe. its so painful, i cant handle being awake for too long. i started sleeping all the time, but soon after i couldnt sleep at all. i cant stop seeing it- seeing you. i miss you so much, but not in the way you could ever imagine. no. this is worse than that. missing someone feels bittersweet, because you know what their touch was like and wish to have it again- something chemically addicting and so sweet to feel. this type of missing is devoid of the sweetness. every memory of you is tainted and they fade to grey. why is everything so dull now? remembering your touch is the worst because it makes my skin burn for you. i feel like my body is completely hollow and my chest hurts constantly now. i cant leave our room anymore because its the only place left that still really smells like you. our shower has all of your products in it too. your toothbrush, razor, even the floss you always left on the edge of the sink that i'd nag you to put away. i cant touch it. i cant touch anything anymore. if you were here, you would pick me up and force me in the shower, brush my teeth for me. how could you leave me? did you think maybe i wouldnt miss you? or maybe you assumed i could get over it. four days since it happened, and i still couldnt leave the house. i wish you could know that. i saw your family the day it happened, your father came. he cried for you. i know how he was to you, but i have never seen a grown man cry that way. your mother couldnt speak. she seemed in so much shock i didnt know what to say. the investigators hung around for a while. your mother, still wide-eyed and shaking, held me to her for a long time. we didnt say a word, but i knew she understood. with red and blue filling the darkness in that small parking lot, i felt so alone. i remember squeezing my eyes shut, telling myself it was just a dream. a horrible nightmare that i would soon wake up from, but i never did. i prayed, to whatever god, that by the morning i would feel your hands on my sides and my back. that i would hear your groggy morning voice, or hear slight quiet music coming from our living room. an empty coffee mug, your phone still plugged in. anything to show that you were still there. the imprint your body left on the mattress faded in less than 2 days though. and there was never any music. the empty coffee mug had dried completely, and the ring on the inside of it remained, as it joined the rest of the unwashed dishes in our overflowing sink. it was so hard to grasp because i remember how happy you seemed the days before. i thought you were getting better. you laughed and smiled more, you werent as irritable and you held me more and for longer. i struggle every morning because i know i will never feel that again. these memories play over and over again. it almost feels like my breath has been taken away from me, my lungs becoming smaller and each breath becomes sharper and harder to achieve.
we were both 19 when we met, in a stupid comic book class in college for an elective credit. we both assumed it would be fun until it turned into just busy work. so you would look at me and i would smile and that would be that. until we paired up for some work and we talked like we were childhood best friends the entire class period. it started with questions about interests and then you stole my number away from me somehow. then it turned to flirting over the phone all night long and eventually waking up to you beside me. i didnt want anything serious, until you told me you loved me. we had been together unofficially for about 7 months when you said that. holding my hand, you looked into my eyes like you meant it and said, "i cant pretend anymore. this isn't just messing around, i want you. be with me. i am wholly in love with you." i couldnt believe it. life took off from that moment. graduating early now because we had such big dreams. getting jobs in towns that werent too far from our perfectly-big-for-the-both-of-us apartment. i remember after our first two years, you started talking about marriage more. trying to get a feel for how i felt on it, i could tell. i fell fast and hard for you. of course, i went along with every little thing because i could no longer imagine a life without you. you proposed. it was a small wedding, but it was perfect. you spent so long investing in the ring, and it is absolutely gorgeous. now it rests on my finger still, and each morning i wake up i debate taking it off as to not be reminded of something so persistently broken. but i never can. you never talked much about having kids, i dont think you liked the idea of being a father. you would have been a good one, though. i wish you were around still, so you could be now. 3 months after, i had to take a test. i had to know. i was very late on my periods and i knew throwing up every morning wasnt normal. i couldnt bring myself to leave the house at first still, but i did. walking past the stairs outside our apartment we used to kiss underneath, i made my way to a convenience store. when i came home, i took the test and left it on the counter for the night. i didnt want to look at it. i couldnt. i couldnt go on knowing you were gone and left not just me- but a new family behind. married at 21 and widowed at 24 with a child on the way wasn't a title i was ready to have. a label that clung to me the same way drenched clothes do. widow. i couldnt stand the thought. before, i thought i would give in and join you, but i couldnt now. i had someone else to be responsible for.
you left without much warning, and in a very inconspicuous way. pills. why didnt i think of it? i slowly got rid of anything pointy or sharp in the house, but god the pills. you seemed so peaceful. i came back home again to the lights out. but i made no sense to me, just yesterday the lights were on, and you were inviting me to join you watching the tv. so now- why were the lights off again? i rushed to our room, you were sleeping again. i left you alone for a while, but something didnt feel right. i came back-still asleep. i tried to wake you. i couldnt. i couldnt. i couldnt. i started shaking you, i started yelling, the yelling turned to screaming, then crying and picking up the phone to make a call i never in my life wanted to make. they tried to say it was accidental overdose on sleeping pills. i found empty beer bottles scattered in different areas of the apartment, that in combination with the pills is what did it.
since he was gone, i started to remember everything for him. i would write to him all the time. i detailed our son's first steps, his first words, i told him about his grades in school and his friends. i talked about how his family was doing, but more than anything i wrote how much i missed him. i missed him everyday. the pain didnt stop. i remember the best advice i was given while grieving; time heals, but not in the regular way of pain. over time, your heart will grow around the loss, not over it. it will still sting 20 years later to think of this, and you will still weep for him when you are wrinkled and old, but you will live again. you will feel the hurt just as bitter and cold, but you will not become the hurt. i tried for the next year to be in and out of counseling so i didnt turn to drugs or alcohol- i needed to keep the baby healthy and keep my brain from crumbling every time i thought of him. our son went off to college. i was in my 40's now and had a very spotty love life after the fact. dates went nowhere and most people didnt interest me the way he did. our son always tried to tell me i needed to get out more but i did a damn good job raising him for the both of us, so what would i really need a new boyfriend for anyways? i lived peacefully now with the memories of my husband and held onto every moment with the people i love more dearly. yet somehow, he still continued to amaze me.
walking over to my old desk from our apartment we had, our perfectly-big-for-the-both-of-us apartment, i began to write to him for the last time.
