Never Ending (sighmike)

Epilogue

Day 99

I walked down the sidewalk of the now haunted road of Claire. She will always be in my heart, always my first love that I had fantasized of becoming married with. She will always be the person that stands out to me in a crowd, because she was so beautiful. But I would not be seeing her in a crowd anytime soon. In not life would I have thought that she would have left me when she was coming for me. I continued to walk down the sidewalk that I have walked down many times before with no thoughts in my mind of this is where her last true thoughts were. I brushed my hands on my pants, and walked past my house. Claire's mother had invited me to their home so I could look through her room, and grab anything that was mine, or something I wanted to remind me of her out of it. She told me that the room was going to be becoming something besides a bedroom after the new residents moved in. 

I had already read her journal. It was full of the things we had done together, but not exactly like my own. I read parts of it every day, and put sticky notes on my favorite ones. It was beautiful really. She had given it to me the last day I saw her in the hospital after the accident. I did not read any of it the day she gave it to me, but the next day, when I received the news that she was gone, I read some of it. It was like a real-life play-by-play of our time together. She had seemed to always write in her journal at the same time every day. It would be timed, dated, and then she would write of what happened that day. The last entry in the journal was very sad. She had written it days after it happened while she lied in the hospital bed.

She wrote everything like it was a made up story. Not her real life. Some of the sticky notes I put in her journal were like someone else had written it while they say it happen. It confused me, but then again, she must have been confused when she had read my journal. Our two journals besides each other were two books that were worn out and written it. Not two powerful pieces of writing that told our story.

I could not make myself read the entire thing in one day, and on many days I was too caught up with my sadness of losing her I would forget I even had the way of remembering the things that we did together. Now that I have finished the journal, and I know her thoughts of what she was thinking while we did things together, I wished that I had never given her my journal, and then none of this would have happened. If I had not done the owner of leaving my bag with the note in her room that day then she would still be in my arms.

Calm down. It's not your fault. However many times I would say that to me it would never work. I would always feel the guilt for her death. If I had not written the journal, and put the picture in it, she would not have runaway to my house that night. She would not have been distracted by her own thoughts to not look both ways before crossing the road. She would still be here with all of us.

I looked up the street to see that I was next to her house, so I turned and walked up her driveway. The people that were moving in had already hired workers to start painting the house a new color, and I frowned at the dark red going over the blue that made me feel at home in my heart. I knocked on the door and seconds after doing so I heard Sandra say that the door was unlocked. I twister the knob and entered the house and saw Claire's mother walk into the living room and tell me that I could go upstairs and take whatever I would like from her room. I had been putting this off for months now, and had not been in her room since the night Sandra asked me to leave. I trudged my way up the wooden stairs, and walked across the small hallway to Claire's bedroom.

I opened the door and the light from the window shining through made the room the perfect lighting for me to remember all the times we were in this room together both of us happy. I walked over to her bed; it was the same as it was when I left three months ago. I sat on the sheets, and noticed that the smell of her lingered through the entire room. It was the first time in months I was this close to her. I stood up and walked to her bookcase, and on one shelf she had all of the hats that I gave to her. They were neatly on top of one another making a small tower next to her books. I looked over back to her bed to see that my backpack was still sitting on the floor where I had left it. I grabbed it, then walked back to the hats and put them in my bag one by one.