February 14th, 2080.
The nurse came to wake us the next morning at six on the dot the next morning, February 2nd.
Except you never woke up.
They found you gone, your hand in mine, as I woke and you didn't.
I am trying not to cry as I wrote this, and I tried not to cry when they came to wheel you out, pushing me away from your body.
But I have failed both times.
My hands are sore from all the writing I have done, and I sent all of the letters that you had in the drawer to the left for when you died.
I still haven't opened mine, and I gave our kids theirs at your funeral yesterday. They're doing well, they have their kids and our great grandkids to hold close when they think of you.
I don't have anyone.
They tried to relocate my room, but I can't bear to leave this one.
Your robe is still on the chair where you were helped out of it on the night of your birthday. Your plate from your cake is still there, and so is the fork. I won't let them touch it.
It is raining today, Harry.
I wish you were here to hold me again.
I think I will open your letter now, and I'm going to copy what it says in here, no matter how tired my hand gets.
Damn Harry, how tight did you seal this?
"Dear my love,
If you are reading this, I am gone. Long gone or short gone, I don't know. I hope I am short gone because this is something you should read right after I am gone. It feels quite strange to write as if I am dead. It is probably making you cry, if you aren't already. I'm sorry, I'll stop.
I know exactly what you're doing. You probably haven't touched anything since I died, you haven't moved anything either, have you?
In the present time where I am writing this, you are in the yard with our kids, running around and laughing. You look so beautiful today. You look beautiful every day. I bet now you're shocked to find out how soon I wrote this, One Direction is still sort of together, and you think I'm writing a song. I already know why I'm going to die. I am well aware that my asthma is much worse than it used to be. Those days you wake up and I'm not in bed? I am in the kitchen with my inhaler, gasping. I don't want you to see me like this, vulnerable. Of course if it gets worse as I age, I think I'll end up with an oxygen tank, and I know that it will hurt you to see me like that. I am very sorry if that is what you had to live with.
If we ended up in a older folks home, which I know I will at least, I am also sorry again. Knowing you, you'll probably stay with me there, and that's why I'm writing this, I'm sure I'll die fist, or died. Sorry about the whole topic of death again. I want you to know that I am not bothered by the idea of living in an assisted living home. I'm sure I told you that when our kids suggested it, or you filled out the papers or however we ended up in one. I bet I smiled too, because I probably thought of this letter and knew that I was right. I'm always right.
I hope I die peacefully, er, died. I would like to be sleeping, so if I seemed really off, I hope you made me sleep a lot. I really hope I said something important or romantic to you before I died, because I'd be pretty pissed with myself if I didn't. I also hope I died sometime in the winter, because I think a snowy day is a nice day for a funeral for someone like me. I also hope it rains, maybe the following day, liek a sign of me washing away your sadness. Maybe I'll have a little one-on-one with the big guy and I'll convince him to alter the weather...for his favourite curly singer?
I know this letter must seem awfully silly for an after death letter, but to be honest, I'm kinda scared of thinking about us being apart, even if I am watching over you in heaven, which I will be because I love you and I know you will be a mess. So, HI GORGEOUS! HERE IS ME WATCHING OVER YOU! That was so tacky, wow.
Are the other boys okay? OR are they up here in heaven with me. Don't answer that, I'll either be with them or I won't. Just keep an eye out on them if I pass before any of them. Especially your brother, because I love him almost as much as I love you. He is legally my brother after all. If I am the last one to go, which could be possible since I'm the youngest, I am here to assure you that we are all watching over you.
Now, on the topic of the journal slash diary you keep. Yes, I have seen it. I haven't read it, but I am awfully curious what you write in there. Is it all good when you write about me? Don't worry, I'm not pestering too much. I just hope you don't write anything depressing in there after I am gone, or now...Sorry about that death topic again, I should stop doing that.
I love you so much. I love the little things you do and the huge things you do. I just love you with all of my heart. I want you to think of that when you feel sad, because that is what reminds you that I am there. Because I love you so much I'll be watching over you.
I need to go now, the sun has set, and the kids are put to bed. I am going to cuddle with you and give you an extra long and hug and kiss tonight, so hopefully if you know what day today is, er, was, you will remember that hug, because it was like my pre-goodbye hug.
Forever and always yours,
Harry Edward Styles."
There you go Harry. I will admit that I cried a lot reading that. I also laughed because I can picture you writing this, a sloppy grin on your face as you keep apologizing.
I do remember the day you wrote this, and I am saddened by the fact you never told me.
I'm happy the home we're in didn't bother you, I really wasn't sure.
Finally, you are so fucking creepy because you predicted so much.
By the way, it is raining, although you already know that. Guess you had a pretty convincing one-on-one, my favourite curly singer.
I'm in the car that someone fetched for me, I can't drive as you know, and I am on my way to drop this journal at your fresh grave so you can read the story of our love. Plus you said not to write anything depressing in here and I know I would if I kept it. I was going to give it to you someday anyways, I just wish it wasn't in this way.
I've just arrived, and I am on my own now, writing scratchily because I am trying to walk. Sorry about that.
Someone left white roses, your favourite flowers, and they are beautiful.
The grass is newly planted and the idea of your cold body a few feet below me makes me both sad and nauseous.
Your headstone reads:
Harry Edward Styles
1st February, 1994 - 2nd February 2080
Loving Husband, Father, Bandmate, & Friend.
I hope that is enough. The rain has let up for the time being, so I don't need to hold an umbrella as I sit here. Was that your doing too?
I don't know how much I'll live since your gone, but I won't do anything drastic, calm down.
I hope you enjoy the story of our life, Harry.
I miss you so much, and it hurts, this hole in my heart won't mend.
I love you with all of my heart. The rain is starting again, so I'm going to finish it here. I am enclosing this notebook in a ZipLock bag, and leaving it here. It says your name on the bag, so nobody will touch it. I wish I could have buried it with you, but I wasn't finished yet.
I have a feeling you'll see this anyways.
Forever and always yours.
