Right okay, let's get one thing clear before you read this, I wrote it very spontaneously with no plan or anything so that's why it may seem a bit... unstructured or bad. I know its way too sappy so I don't really know if it really feels like something Alex would write, but nonetheless I just got this idea and decided to give it a go. I hope you enjoy, and forgive the rusty writing, its been a veryyy long time.
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Death is always a perplexing concept. The thought that anything and everything you love, can't ever be with you forever. Many learn that the hard way - God knows I have. Many observe it in many different ways, some envision a light at the end of a longly awaited tunnel; appeasement. Others fear it, conceptualize no light, just a series of nothing after nothing. Somewhere we can't feel but can somehow acknowledge we're there.
I don't know what to believe, I guess I'll know when the time comes, right.
I'll always remember laying beside her in bed, our bed, lazily tracing shapes into her back as she spoke softly into my ear, almost like some nurturing lullaby as she nestled into me; I was never much of a touchy-feely guy, but for her I'd have even quit my job and become a fucking bee keeper if it had made her feel content, safe. I'd tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and planted a delicate kiss on her shoulder, whispered in her ear
"What's the one thing you're most afraid of." She smiled, sighed.
"Well for one thing, those green and yellow plaid pants of yours." I rolled my eyes, chuckled along with her. She was right, they were awful.
"Okay, Norma. In all seriousness."
"I was being serious, the colour actually offends me to be honest, where does one even buy green and yellow plaid pants? Like, Alex were you really drunk or just purposely trying to obtain the ugliest pair of pants in White Pine Bay?" I'd grown almost concerned at her level of hatred for my pants. As I grew impatient, I went to remove my arms from around her, huffed like a primary school child. However she'd intertwined her fingers into mine and wrapped me tighter around her than before, subtly landed a gentle kiss against my knuckles. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I guess if I had to say, it would be to die and have nothing there. You know? I know it sounds stupid and I know I'd be gone and dead so it's not like it would bother me anyway, but the thought that people like my mother, someone who struggled so much in life and were just dealt bad cards, would have no chance. Like, live? You suffer. Die? You get absolutely nothing." I'd felt her go silent for a moment, maybe she was sad, or hopeless or maybe even just tired and that was all she had to say. She'd turned over to face me, nimbly traced my cheek bones and the line of my jaw with her finger. "What about you?".
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It hurt like hell when I found out Norman was holding your funeral. That he'd invited not one single soul apart from himself, not even allowed me to come and grieve. Not even allowed me to say good-bye to you. I mean, we had our time at the morgue, but come on. What fucking husband has to say good-bye to the love of his life, the only thing that ever truly damn well mattered, on a silver tray. It won't be the same, but this letter is for you, Norma. It's not right, you being gone. We had so much to do. We had so much to see. I'm tired of the people coming up to me, uttering "I'm sorry for your loss" and walking away like it's no big deal.
I wish they'd know this pain. The pain that's like a fucking syringe has been stabbed into my heart and drained out all the blood, like I've been kicked in the shins mercilessly for hours on end, making every step a living nightmare. The same legs I could've used to get to you faster. I'm so sorry, Norma. But there's one thing I do know. I know you are somewhere good. I know you're with me and I know you're happy. I know that people like you, that just get dealt bad cards, do get the life they deserved. I know you're with your mother and I know she got the life you wanted her to have, and if you see my mum, tell her I love her and make sure she damn well loves you. I know all this because I know you, Norma. I know you made the most out of a tough life. I know you're resilient and beautiful. I mean, I never thought I'd marry again, ever be truly in love, yet here I am, writing a letter to my wife; my wife Norma Louise Bates.
But hell do I miss you, baby. I miss the smirks you'd give me when I'd make a dumb joke to make you laugh. I miss the way you'd crinkle your nose and grin whenever I'd tell you I loved you. I miss the way your voice sounded in the morning. I miss waking up to you, I miss being with you, I just fucking miss you.
There was one thing I never got to tell you, and that was what the one thing I was most afraid of was. To be honest, at the time, it was really because I actually didn't know what I was most afraid of, I just shrugged your question off and halted your sigh with a kiss. But now I know. The one thing that I am most afraid of, is living in a world without Norma Bates. I'm alone, I mean I had been before you, and I guess it was inevitable I would be after you, but I'm scared, Norma. I'm scared to not have you by my side, I'm fucking Alex Romero and I am scared because I'm living in a world without my soul mate, my wife, my Norma. But I have to. I have to do it, because I know you're not gone and I know you're telling me right now 'Get your head out of your ass, bulldog and try not to get arrested'. We'll be together soon. Whether its by finally not getting the upper hand on a suspect and becoming yet another picture on the wall of fallen officers, or whether its by old age, with the framed picture of us at the festival together on my bed-side table, reminding me that my fear will be over, and I can be by your side again.
So I guess this is it. It's not good-bye a such, it's an I will see you soon. I will always love you, my girl. I hope there's a piano wherever you are.
Love from
Your, Alex.
