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She laid there watching the gentle raising and falling of his chest. Her hand crept over his heart as she could now feel it beating. “One day we can have our own,” he said earlier that night at dinner. They had watched as a couple near them just announced to their parent’s of their surprise. He kissed her head with a knowing smile. The wedding was only a few days away. Then it would all be real. All their dreams, all their hopes. They hadn’t thought about what they should be worried about or fears. She snapped out of her daydream and got up. It was 1:30 in the morning, but a normal time for her insomnia to take its toll. She slipped out of her robe and into the shower. The burning water pelted against her flesh. It was a freezing November night, and although she embraced the cold, the heat was comforting. Not too long afterwards, the water was off and she put on leggings and an “Office” t-shirt. Returning to the bed once more, she awaited for his usual joke about the shirt she was wearing or the cold she brought with her into bed. He said nothing. Maybe he was too tired and just rolled over. She thought nothing more of it, kissed his cheek, and fell back asleep.

There are some mistakes that you make and you don’t realize it until it is far too late. Never roll over or ignore your loved one if they fall asleep before you. Feel their heartbeat. Listen to their breath.

She woke up around 9:00 that same morning with love on her brain. He was still rolled over and asleep as she peaked over his shoulder to kiss his face. But when she did, she didn’t feel anything. There was no warmth, no heartbeat, no breath. Everything you’d need to be alive. She put him on his back to reveal a grayness to his face. She patted his cheeks in hopes he’d giggle and wake. His silence defied her every hope and wish. So she called for an ambulance, who doubled with a coroner. The EMT’s could do nothing. He had been dead since 1:45 a.m. when she had at the same time been in the shower. She never said a word, she just stood and watched, as her life went from bliss to her man dead in a cold grey box. All the family soon gathered with their condolences and heartbreak, but it didn’t matter. She screamed at the preacher, she cursed all those that had came. The poor girl had to exchange wedding bands on cold, decaying hands. Instead of wearing black to his service, she wore her wedding gown. She didn’t care if it was the wrong occasion. The things she had didn’t matter now. She refused to leave his side. Even as they put him in the ground. Her family and friends were worried. One morning they found her asleep next to his tombstone on the ground. Though they gave her their all she never recovered. The preacher couldn’t preach enough, the counselors couldn’t listen enough, the people couldn’t love her enough to alleviate her pain. She lost her only love.

This may not be well written, but I don’t care. This was my life a year ago. And the one who died was my man. I have done well since then, but I still cannot love. I don’t care who sees this, and I don’t care if it sounds dumb. My heart is still in pieces. So don’t think that I came here to find love. Thank you for reading. I promise I won’t write a story like this again.

COMMENTS

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DarkestTemptation
01:14 Oct 01 2018

Wow, you had that much great love that you didn't want to let him go. I feel that now and thank you for sharing your own story its happy then jumps to very sad. I am very sorry that this happen to you.

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POST COMMENT

I knew that I was different, but not at the magnitude that is considered "different". For years I was fooled by my family about how normal I am. Sure the home wasn't perfect, nor where I was raised. However, it did not stop me from feeling out of place and unsure. Everything I tried didn't feel right. Whether it was changing my diet or sexuality to changing friend groups- it all felt wrong. Aside from that, I had an extreme amount of nightmares/terrors. That being, nightmares is just the obnoxious dream about being stuck with an ex or maybe even drowning. Night terrors are nightmares on crack. These horrific bad dreams were ones I could feel all the pain and actively be involved in it without being able to wake up. I didn't recognize the difference until I finally asked why my friends couldn't spend the night as a child/teen. I would scream and sob during these episodes; they were scared my friends would be afraid for me. When I was finally told why I had all these issues and why I felt out of place, all my family had was a story. Apparently, as a toddler we lived in a house where a little girl had died many years before us. I would talk to her for hours in the night instead of going to sleep. One night , she kept trying to coax me toward the second story window where we could "play". My dad found me before I did. I was never the same little girl after that. Sad thing is, that was only my first encounter with the dead.