Short Stories

Silent Love

He does not talk. He does not sing. Though I can still hear his once beautiful voice.

He's beautiful, mesmerizing. His eyes are crystal blue, skin a light tan and his rich brown hair moves in the wind as he stares back at me.

We're sitting on a cliff in the mountain we loved to climb as kids. Our families always took us here in the summer. But here we are now, just the two of us, in the calming colors of autumn.

His eyes stare at me as if seeing me for the first time.

His hands sign and I read them quickly, sitting closer to him as he asks.

One arm is put around me as I rest my head on his shoulder.

It's been two years since the accident. Two years since our lives were changed. Two years since we lost our parents. Two years since we had to start looking out for each other.

I can still feel his gaze as he looks at my legs. One is normal, lightly tanned and muscled. The other is- well, made of metal.

We sit silently, staring at the sun about to set. So much has happened in two years and we will not forget. But we will not be chained to the past either.

Tears slip and I take a deep breath, remembering my parents, his parents, all the fun we used to have. I stare at the sky and know God is watching from somewhere. He must be. He must know what this feels like, He must know what we're going through. 

I feel him squeeze me closer and I smile softly. He always reminds me to have faith. He who can no longer speak to me or sing to me. He who seems to be suffering the worst, not able to express what he really wants to say.

And yet, it is beautiful.

I know what he wants to say. That we are blessed to see another sunset. Together.

Not many get to experience this. I guess he's right.

I sigh.

I feel his soft lips on my head, planting a light kiss.

I remember when we were kids and our parents would say that we're destined for one another. I remember all the days we played, all the school memories and church memories. They weren't wrong.

It seems that out of the ashes, something beautiful bloomed. That when we lost things, we found something too.

Our faith is refined and our love is made strong. Even if it's the silent type.

I sit up and look at him again, marvelling at how such an amazing guy ended up right beside me every day of my life.

He must be thinking the same because he winks, a small smile playing at his lips.

His hands lift up a prayer. "Amen." I say for the both of us.

I once again lean on his shoulder, a cool breeze ruffling the blanket we're on and the leaves that blow around us.

1 John 4:8 says "God is love." And though He is perfect and we are not, we are still able to mirror His love through the best ways we can. Even if it's in silence.