She was never one to do, but rather one to try. She was always truthful and loving, and on our wedding day I promised to be with her forever. And so I did. Sure, like any couple, we had our ups and downs, but none of those arguments even scratched the surface of divorce.
She was never confident in herself- she was very vague about that topic. She never thought she could do anything so she always said, "I'll try"- it seemed like her catchphrase because she said it so often. She, according to her mother, stayed in one room for two weeks because she was so insecure. Her family was so concerned about her that they practically had to force her out of the house.
When we met, she changed my life, and I changed hers. We saved each other. And that's why, as I sit on her deathbed, I keep my promise- I'll stay with her forever. She's had it for a little while- bone cancer-, but she always tended to be secretive about negative things, so I had no idea.. Until she collapsed one day.
That day she broke 3 bones: her ribcage, forearm, and hip bone. On the way to the hospital, all I could thing of was how traumatizing it was to hear the cracking against the tile. She was crying on the way.
We got to the hospital, got an x-ray. The next day- today at 4:57 PM- the doctors told us that she was diagnosed with bone cancer. I remember feeling- I don't know, scared? Terrified? ...Emotionless? To say the least, I was heartbroken- I didn't know I was crying until my nerves started working again. I felt the wetness of my tears and the pain of my heart.
I remember she looked at me with her sorrow-filled eyes, "I'm so so so sorry." I remember her saying it repetitively. I had no words. I walked out, I had said nothing. Why did I walk out? I regretted it. She needed me. I made her a promise.
I had come back hours later- 8 PM- didn't know her room number. I said her name to the lady out the counter, she told me the room number- 246. I will never forget that number. I got in her room, they had already shaved her head. She was asleep. I sat at the foot of her bed. She woke up, smiled at me- a sad smile.
She had casts around her broken bones. She started to cry again. "I tried to tell you sooner, I just couldn't-" I remember her saying that, her own sobs interrupting her. The word "try" was in that sentence. It seemed to be in all of her sentences. I hugged her, I cried too- again.
She smiled at me once again, tears streaming still. I held her hand, she held mine. Hours passed, and this brings us to now, at 11:09 PM, me sitting in a chair next to her bed. She's asleep. She's so beautiful. I'm still holding her hand.
She wakes up, panting heavily- a bad dream is what she says it was. She doesn't fall back asleep. She's looking at me so sadly. She doesn't want it to end. I don't want it to end.
"I can't do it," she mutters- she cries again. I squeeze her hand, "You can," is all I say. We say the same words back and fourth, almost like an argument. She doesn't say anything for a while- at least 5 minutes, the only sound the quiet beeps of the heart monitor. She sighs. "I'll try."
I'm sick of hearing that word- "try." I look at her so very concerned, "you. Will. Live." She smiles. Her eyes close slowly, the heart monitor beeps nonstop, no pauses.
A straight line.
A trier she was.
