The Love Of A Lifetime

I Don't Remember

  Death, it’s such a final term, such a final thing. One minute you can be holding the person you love most, and the next they’re dead, ripped from your very arms, never to return to them again. Death is painful to, not just for its victim, but for whom its victim leaves behind; the loved ones who will never again see the smiling face of the person they’ve lost forever.  The pain is unbearable, debilitating; making you wish you’d died too, but you didn’t, you were left here, alone and suffering, to live the rest of your life without the one person you love.

 I don’t remember how long I’ve been crying, and I don’t know if I’ll ever stop. I don’t remember how long I’ve been sitting in this room, his room, waiting for him to walk in the door, smiling like always, and tell everyone there’s been a mistake, that clearly he’s not dead, but he never does. I don’t remember what day it is or even my own name, all I know is that he’s gone, dead, forever. My muscles ache but I don’t dare move for fear of making everything worse, although I wonder how things could possibly get any worse. He was gone and I was still here, without him.   

  My thoughts were pulled back to that night, the night I lost him. It was dark, only a slither of moonlight reached us, and we were walking hand in hand, his thumb caressing circles on the back of my hand. It was getting late, about nine o’clock, and we were heading back home, to the room I now sit in. Our evening had been full of smiles, laughter and love. We were so distracted by each other we didn’t even see where we were walking, just the general direction.  

 We were in an alley, taking a shortcut to a less busy part of town, still making our way home slowly. Then a boy, no more than fifteen years old, jumped out in front of us. At first we simply kept walking, assuming he was just a local using the same shortcut, how very wrong we were. His friends quickly appeared by his sides, goading him into something, they looked familiar and vengeful. Looking back, I realise this to be a clue, a warning from the universe, telling us to turn away, go back to the crowd of people, to safety, but we don’t, we stop walking altogether.

  Then suddenly the boy pulled out a gun from his blue hoodie, he aimed it straight at me. Liam moved to stand in front of me protectively and attempted to calm the boy. Liam shuffled us back a step and the boy shot, hitting Liam right in the heart. And then he was gone.

 I don’t remember how I got back here or anything else after the shooting. All I do know is that my baby will know how brave and loving his daddy was, until the very end.