28th of July
10:06 p.m.
“Sometimes, during those sleepless nights, when the house is so quiet, my thoughts gets a notch higher, and I start thinking that what if I didn’t insist we had to go out that night, or, instead of waiting for you in that fancy restaurant up the hill, we could have went together and ordered some greasy burger from one of those cheap fast food restaurants.
Would you still get involved in that accident? Would that racing car still hit the side of your motorcycle? causing you to lose control and the motorcycle to swirl around till hit the rocky side of the hill.
You were so close to the restaurant, just ten minutes away, I was waiting on the table by the windows, on the quite side of the restaurant, the side we both liked.
When the accident happened, I heard it all, the screech of the tires, the sound of the collusion between your motorcycle and the side of the hill, and the defeating sound of the explosion, even the sound of the heavy rain didn’t cover it.
I remember, sitting there, paralyzed, shocked, while most of them went out to see what had happened, I remember hearing the urgency in the voice of one of the waiters as he informed the police, I remember him saying something about a man with motorcycle.
It is then that it hit me, for a second I didn’t move, I tried denying it, I tried shacking the dark thoughts, but they still hovered over my mind like stormy clouds.
I remember forcing my feet to drag me outside, pushing through the crowd of people that gathered near the entrance, witnessing the aftermath of the accident while sheltering themselves from the harsh rain, I remember hearing them calling me as I stepped into the rain, but I ignored them. Because at that moment, when I saw your body lying there, on the wet, harsh asphalt, in a puddle of your own blood everything around me came crumbling down. I ran as fast as I could in my silly, long, tight dress, and high heels.
And, oh Matt, when I saw your bloodied face, my heart broke, my knees gave up, I fell on the ground, had to crawl a bit to reach you, I remember shouting your name between my loud sobs, I remembered your eyebrows twitching, I remember the police and the ambulance arriving, I remember arriving at the hospital, but, I don’t remember my tears ever drying out, or you waking up ….”
It is her voice that keeps my heart beating.
It is her warm touches that allow the blood to circulate around my lifeless body.
For not the first time, she's the wall I lean on.
For not the first time she surprises me of how brave, strong and faithful she can be.
She is my Annabella.
My sweet, caring wife.
If I wasn’t reckless that day, and did wear my helmet, I wouldn’t be lying on this bed, vegetable, while hopelessly hearing her voice tremble and quiver, hearing her uneven hitched breathe, her failed attempts to sob quietly, filling my heart with guilt and pain.
