Obliviate

The Year 2023

My family and I prepare ourselves for the funeral of my husband, Wilmer Hines.

Wilmer passed away from an unexpected murder, in the middle of an alleyway just outside of London. He was on his way home from work late at night when the situation occurred.

The police knocked on my door at three in the morning, to break the news to me. I can't remember my reaction at that very moment, because I cried so hard that my memory was wiped.

My twins were awoken by my wails, apparently. They rushed out of their rooms and saw me on the floor screaming as if I had just been shot. My daughter told me that my screaming and crying was more eerie than the situation itself.

The next few days after were incredibly depressing. I didn't eat, I didn't sleep, and I cried uncontrollably. I was shocked that my body kept producing tears, for I thought I cried them all. My daughter, Serena, slept with me those few days while my son, Devlin, slept on the floor.

I know my suffering wasn't the worst of it, since my children had to deal with the thought of losing their father. I tried my best to be strong for my kids, but seeing them just as heartbroken nearly killed me.

I have no parents, I cannot recall a moment of my life where I had someone there for me. So I tried my best to be that for my children; to be that someone, who was there for them. But it was so hard, because all I've been used to was being alone.

Until I met Wilmer.

I met Wilmer when I was nineteen at a pub in London. I was drunk when he appeared, and he kept asking me if I was alright. If i'm being honest, I don't remember even getting to the pub. I don't remember being as drunk as I was, or even drinking to begin with. He assured me that we've spoken before, previous nights before the day I finally acknowledged his existence. I believed him, because I was drunk.

He made sure I got home safe, and that I didn't end up puking all over myself in my sleep. It made me uncomfortable when I finally became sober the next day that a stranger I don't remember meeting, stayed at my house to watch over me. But since there's not a moment in my life where I can recall someone watching over me, I took advantage of it.

We hit it off that next day, and went on dates after. We've been together ever since, making it twenty four years of love. I have some regrets of that night, but I'm a firm believer that Wilmer was sent to me.

My life felt like an entire blur from birth, to the age of nineteen. The day, at the pub, was the first and only day I felt like my life had started. Wilmer was the start to me becoming a brand new person, and experiencing things I never had.

We finally got married in 2002, when I was Twenty-Two and he was Twenty-Four. Three years later, we had my twins, Serena and Devlin. They're Seventeen now, which disgusts me.

Thinking about all of this, my life from the day I met Wilmer, to the day I lost him, makes me feel lost. I'm so used to his love, his presence, and his energy that I don't know what to do now that he's gone. All of the memories we've built, the family we've created, the life we've put together for ourselves, it's just mine to control now. And I don't know what to do.

It's the day of the funeral, and barely anyone is coming. We didn't have much friends, by ourselves or as a couple. There was only a select few we were friends with, and some of them are coming. We didn't really make friends; it almost felt like we couldn't.

I know that some of my children's friends are coming, but other than that, that's about it. His parents are also deceased, so my children have no grandparents on either side to confide in at the funeral.