People can tell you superficial things about Sierra Carson, things like, that she was fascinated by stars and constellations, like how she scored a 4.0 GPA, that she ended up actually studying astronomy and becoming an astronomy teacher at the local high school.
But people can't tell you things like how she enjoyed shopping for baby clothes but only after eating dinner so we were fully nourished.
They can't tell you things like how she liked late night snuggles; she had no preference as to who it was, just that her need were fulfilled.
They don't know that she detested rocky road ice cream, but didn't mind kissing me after, although complain immediately afterwards about the taste.
And they don't know that every breath I continue to breath without her presence slowly breaks me, until I'm afraid that there won't be anything left but a shell of the guy who was worthy of being loved by someone like Sierra Carson.
They don't know that as I stand here at her grave site, my knees trembling as the pastor reads off his pre-rehearsed speech, I'm not sure I'll walk away her in one piece. Because I'm irrevocably and deeply in love with Sierra Carson.
YOU ARE READING
life after her.
Short StoryA loving wife; and soon to be mother. Sierra was a kind young women, she was married in late August and shortly after became pregnant with a baby girl whose due date happened to be very soon. On a fateful night, walking home from work, Sierra was hi...
