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| i had a really nice dream the other night. we were swimming in this pool, except it was much larger than a normal swimming pool. we couldn't even see the other end from where we started. after swimming about halfway you said you were tired and so i laid on my back and let you rest your body on me while i kicked toward the other side. only we never reached the wall, i just kept kicking and kicking with you resting on me. neither of us were scared and i was never tired. you were just happy to finally rest and be relaxed, and i was just happy that i could help you and that you needed me. and so i kept kicking, and you kept smiling at me, until i woke up.
has it really been this long?
| | |
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I had forgotten what it felt like
to be happy. That is, until the day I
started to pack up my things for the big move.
Digging through the closet, pulling out all the winter clothes to be
stuffed in boxes, and there it was, buried beneath the sweaters and
sweatshirts…one of her t-shirts. My
favorite one. It still smelled of her
apartment, of jasmine and raspberry-scented candles. And for the briefest of moments, I smiled at
the memories. I loved her
even before we were together. I just
didn’t know it at the time. I was always
shy and awkward around women, but with her I never ran out of things to say,
and she was always gracious enough to let me ramble on about absolutely
nothing. She would listen intently and
even express interest in topics that I knew she could care less about like
sports and video games. I adored her for
it. We were from different circles, but
we had much in common. We listened to
the same music, watched the same shows, shared the same ideas on faith. We would hang out together with our separate
groups of friends, but it was never a problem when one of us wanted to do our
own thing. When we had disagreements she
would never raise her voice or talk down to me, and she never resorted to
insults. She accepted my shortcomings
and understood that I wasn’t perfect.
She was perfect for me. I told
her as much.
Some people
may have thought it strange that two 20-somethings would enjoy plays and
musicals so much, but there we were at least once a month: Mezzanine section, Row
C, Seats 12 and 13. I always sat in 12
because she said it felt more natural to hold my right hand in her left, like
what we did when I drove us places. I
always looked forward to those evenings because she never failed to take my
breath away. I knew everyone was looking
at her and thinking to themselves how beautiful and elegant she was and what
was she doing with that guy when she could do much better. But even as the slightest hint of insecurity
crept into my body it was always like she could sense it and she’d place her
arms in mine and kiss me on the cheek as if to say no worries baby I’ll always
be here for you. And then she’d laugh as
I groaned and desperately tried to rub the lipstick off my face, but secretly I
loved every time she did it.
As much fun
as we had at those events, as much as we enjoyed going to parties and clubs and
bars together and with friends, as much as we took pleasure in our spontaneous
trips to the beach or the mountains, those aren’t the times I treasure the
most. The moments I’ll never forget, the
moments that I truly loved, were when we would lie next to each other at night,
right before we fell asleep, where I would tell her about the latest thing I
learned in class while she would give me the latest dish on celebrity news. We would talk about our days, and we would
talk about our futures. As uncertain as
I was about where my life would take me, I was never scared because she was
there. She always encouraged me and made
me hope for more, work for more. She
gave me a sense of purpose.
I would hold her hand in mine and watch
her eyelids get heavy while I droned on and on, and I would keep talking even
when it looked like she had fallen asleep because she liked hearing my voice
and said it was soothing. Every morning
when I woke up she’d be anywhere and everywhere on the bed, sometimes her head
nestled in my neck, sometimes completely spread-eagle and almost pushing me off
the bed, sometimes my little spoon, sometimes with a knee to my groin. But no matter what, when I kissed her on the
forehead to wake her up she would look at me and without fail say, “Good
morning. I love you.”
She made me feel whole.
She made me
feel special.
She made me
feel loved.
We were
only together for two years, but it was the only time in my life when I ever
felt complete, when I ever felt truly happy.
I miss her so bad sometimes.
Sitting in class, not paying attention, looking out the window and
seeing people lying on the grass in the quad, and suddenly I’m there with her
relaxing and soaking up the warm spring sun when we should have been studying
instead. When I sit down in front of my
piano or pick up my violin, struggling as I try to make my fingers remember how
they used to move…she pushed me to play again, to not lose what I had learned,
to utilize my talent. I did it to make
her happy, but it turned out that I actually missed playing too. Like she knew it all along. I wrote songs for her. They were horrible. She loved them.
When she
told me she was dying I didn’t believe her.
I was actually mad at first because I thought it was some kind of sick
joke, and it wasn’t funny. But when I
saw the sadness in her eyes, when I saw how her lips trembled, I had to believe
her. The doctors said there was nothing
they could do except make her as comfortable as possible. Even as her health slowly deteriorated, she remained
as upbeat as she could. She told me that
everything would be ok, that she was ready, that she had made her peace. She told me that she wasn’t scared so I
shouldn’t be scared. But she was
scared. I could see it in her eyes. I wish I could have been stronger for her,
but even though I was weak she was strong for me. I would have given anything to trade places
with her. I prayed to God to take me
instead of her. But these types of
prayers are never answered. These wishes
never come true. At least not in real
life.
I dream
about her all the time. She loved
baking, and in my dreams I see her making all of our favorites. When I wake up I swear I can still smell the
fresh apple pie she just made. Sometimes
in my dreams we’re just walking together on the beach, in a park, through
downtown, but always holding hands. But
my favorite dream is the one when she agreed to be my girl. She seemed so embarrassed by the question and
I was afraid she was going to say no and I was almost ready to run away and
hide, but fortunately for me she said yes.
Before she
left she made me promise to keep doing everything we planned. She made me promise to keep going to our
favorite places. And so every month, I
put on my best suit, head to the theater, and sit down in Mezzanine section,
Row C, Seat 12. Because it is more
natural this way. I loved her. I'll always love her.
| | |
| he hated it here.
he had heard several horror stories about these places from friends who visited their grandparents, but in his mind he couldn't believe that it could really be that bad until he stepped foot in one himself. they were right.
everything in the nursing home smelled like a putrid combination of dirty diapers and moth balls. while walking past four wheelchaired men parked in front of the 15-inch common-area-TV, he noticed their vapid faces staring at jessica simpson do her daisy duke routine. a woman sitting on one of the couches laughed and flashed a toothless smile. perhaps she noticed the same thing he did but it was just as likely that she was enjoying the joke of her imaginary buddy that she kept mouthing and motioning to on the next cushion. the couch, along with all the other furniture, was old, musty, stained, the overhead lights were harshly bright, there were dead plants in every corner... and this was supposed to be the best home in the city?
as he made his way down the wing toward his grandmother's room, he couldn't help but take a peek into the rooms that he passed along the way. the home put two people in each room, dividing it up in half by a curtain. some patients seemed to have caring family and friends...he could tell by how their side of the room looked, with their own tv's, lamps, dressers, pillows, sheets, and flowers. others were not so fortunate. maybe they were only there for a little while, like his grandmother. maybe they hadn't been their long enough to have the people they love bring them all these amenities. whatever the reason, he still felt sympathetic, and even a twinge of heartache as he walked by one such room and saw the less fortunate patient alone, sobbing silently while her roommate was smiling and talking to her family.
room 121. grandmother. finally. her bed was on the far side of the room. her roommate laid in her bed, faced against the wall and curled in a fetal position, with her sheets dangled off the side. once he moved passed the dividing curtain, he actually let out an audible gasp. his grandmother had always been a small woman, but never like this. he could see the outlines of her bones pressing against the skin on her hands. her cheeks were completely sunken in. her hair was tangled and greasy, and he could tell that some had fallen out from the last time he'd seen her. she looked as if she couldn't weigh more than fifty pounds.
she was sleeping. the head of the bed was angled up, causing her head to tilt awkwardly to the side. he quietly stepped his way to her bedside and placed a hand on her shoulder, not wanting to startle her but hoping that maybe she would notice it and wake up. instead, she winced at his touch, her face with an expression of agony, as if his hand were made of fire and burning her. she brought her hands toward her chest, making weak fists with her fingers, mumbling softly for him to leave her alone, to let her die. her eyes stayed shut. no matter how many times he tried to reassure her that she was ok, she would not open her eyes. she did not acknowledge him.
he knew this could happen. his mother told him many times that grandmother was sick, yet he still was not prepared for it. he felt sick with pity for the once-lively woman that was relegated to this. he felt sick with guilt that he didn't and never really wanted to go home to help her until now, until it was too late. in the two hours he sat by her bedside, not once did she ever speak to him except to mumble a few incoherent phrases, not once did she ever really wake up until he finally stood up to leave. her eyes opened and for the first time that day he saw life in his grandmother. a tear. he reached down and took her frail hand in his, and they cried together.
he hated it here.
| | |
| ...and
there she is, staring into your eyes, and you know that she is thinking
about you, about your past, about everything that might be gained,
about everything that might be lost, and you wonder if she believes
that you are worth the chance that she must take. your mind wanders
back to that morning, where everything seemed so right but yet so wrong
because you knew you wanted more and that now is the only chance you'll
ever have so you breathe in deeply hold your breath and...stand up.
there is nothing more you can say because the moment is gone. all you
can do is turn around and leave, the tears streaming down your face as
you make your way to the door.
but she tells you to wait...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
never had you heard that word...wait...spoken more beautifully than at that moment. nothing else in the world mattered right then except her, that word, your embrace. everything was going to be alright. dinners, movies, clubs, parties..."studying," staying in, cooking together, trips...holding hands, laughing at stupid jokes, cuddling, kissing...you never expected it, but you were more happy than you'd ever been. things weren't always perfect, things can never always be perfect but no matter what, your feelings for her grew every day, her feelings for you grew every day, and during those moments when time seemed to stand still for both of you, during those moments in bed when you looked into her eyes and couldn't help but smile because you felt so lucky, during those moments when you held her hand, fingers interlocked and never wanting to let go, during those moments when she laid her head against your chest, listening to you breathing as you watched your favorite television show...during those moments and many others you couldn't help it...even though you knew the consequences of feeling this way, even though you knew you'd been burned before, even though you were scared of these feelings, you couldn't help but think that maybe this one, this one could turn into something grand. it was true. it was pure. it was all that you imagined. and you knew then that you loved her. but the time comes when even this love is not enough. you know that only a handful of relationships in life have true meaning, and for awhile you thought this was one...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
and so there you are, one last time, sitting next to her, looking into her eyes, except now instead of an air of hope there is only despair. instead of anticipation there is only dread. instead of excitement there are only unanswered questions...there is only why...why did it have to be this way, why did this have to happen, why God why...did you deserve this? did you do something wrong? as the tears stream down your face you ask, beg, plead for a change that you know will not come. your voice choked up and sobbing, running out of things to say, knowing that the end has come but unwilling to accept it. so much has happened, so much hurt and pain and anger and sadness and yet at that moment all you can think about is wanting to hold her one last time so you put your arm around her shoulders as she lays her head down in that same nook that she always uses. it always feels so comfortable when she is there and for the briefest moment you almost forget about what the end of the day is going to bring.
you talk to her, almost in a whisper, her hair brushing against your lips as you reminisce together. all of those beautiful memories. all of those wonderful times. every time she said that she loved you. every time you said that you loved her. once again you're sitting at the edge of her bed, wondering how she feels about you...once again you're holding hands walking down the beach as the sun dips below the horizon and the water splashes against your ankles as she lets out a little cry because the water is too cold and so she holds onto your arm tightly and you just smile at her and pull her closer...once again she's sitting across from you holding her breath hoping that you love the present that she's given you when in reality you know that she could have given you a dirty sock and you would have been happy because of how hard she tried to get a gift that was "perfect" for you...once again you're staring at her in bed, thinking about how lucky you are...once again you're holding hands...once again you're in love...with each passing memory you feel your heart getting weaker. with each memory you wonder where it all went. and no matter how hard you try, it feels as if each memory is being torn from you, robbed of its purity, tainted from its perfection in your heart. soon there are no more memories to share. soon there is nothing left to say. it's not you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
you wonder sometimes if she still thinks about you. you can't help it. you wonder what she is doing, if she is happy that you're no longer there. you still think about her. even though you told yourself not to let it happen, she still enters your mind when you're alone. everything reminds you of her. you think about everything that has happened and your heart feels torn, filled emptiness, anger, sadness, bitterness, regret, denial, heartbreak. you think about everything that has been said and you hope beyond hope that she remembers your words. and so there you sit, alone, wondering...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
she looks tired.it's the first thought that pops in your head
when she opens the door. she's holding that stuffed bear you gave
her, arms wrapped tightly around it as if it is the only thing
protecting her from some unseen terror. tears are trickling down her
cheek. her eyes are puffy and cast downward, her beautiful soft hair
unkempt and tangled. suddenly she reaches for you, throwing her arms and
her bear around your neck, pressing her body against yours. she is
trembling in your arms. you tell yourself that you have to keep it
together for her sake. you have to hold in your emotions. don't show
her your own weakness because what she needs now is strength. so you
bite your lip. you hold back. you let her cry in your arms. you let
her tears soak your shirt. and you hold it in. "it's ok. i'm here now."
a few moments
later, she lets you go. she turns from you and walks back to her bed,
under her covers. as you make your way over to her you notice the tissues strewn over the floor, but that's not the only thing that catches your eye. on the floor next to the tv you see the dvd that you gave her, the movie that she loved to tell you about and was surprised that you'd never seen, so you went out and bought it for her just so you could watch it together. "did you watch it recently?"
"yeah, last night."
"still as good as you remembered?"
"haha yeah it never gets old." she laughs softly, smiles meekly. you'd forgotten how much you missed that. you sit down on the bed next to her as she blows her nose and wipes away more tears, the smile quickly vanishing from her face. that laugh now feels so hollow. it hurts you so much to see her this way. you put her hand in yours as she stares blankly at the far wall. you never know what to do in situations like these. "do you want to talk about it?"
"i'd rather not right now...i'm so tired..."
"ok...try to rest."
she looks at you for a moment and then slowly closes her eyes, one hand in yours, the other clutching her bear. soon you begin to hear her shallow, rhythmic breathing and you know that she's asleep. as you sit there, letting her sleep, not letting go of her hand, the memories that you thought you had stored away forever, they flood back. you look over at her desk and dresser, at the spots where there used to be framed pictures. the one from your first trip together, gone. first anniversary, gone. first formal, gone. your favorite random picture...gone. replaced by her friends, her family, her pets. you think
back to those days. you had your chance and it slipped away.
you saw how she moved on, and you thought that you had moved on too. you felt over her. then today happens and you realize how completely wrong you were. you
realize how when you held her at the door you still never wanted to let go. you realize that when you noticed the pictures missing it made you want to make new memories with her. you realize that your feelings haven't changed for her and you still feel the
same way you felt some time ago, you still want nothing more than
to take away her pain, make her smile and laugh and feel happy and
safe...with you. as these thoughts run through your head, she abruptly wakes up. "are you ok?"
"yeah, you're just squeezing my hand kinda tight...was i asleep long?" you didn't want to wake her, but you must have subconsciously clenched your hand while you were thinking. you look at her as she rubs the sleep out of her eyes and suddenly you're back to that first night you ever spent with her. you remember how you didn't want to wake her because you hoped she was dreaming about you. you remember how peaceful her face seemed. you remember trying to memorize her every curve and nuance and being embarassed when she woke up and caught you. you remember how she snuggled up closer to you, letting out that contented sigh that people only use when they're completely relaxed and completely at ease, and how she laid in your nook and fell asleep once more. it took you months to forget, but in truth it was never really gone. she was never really gone. she asks you a question. "how have you been?"
"i've been ok. nothing special really."
"nothing at all?"
"well my friend got a puppy the other day. a corgi. i thought about calling to tell you about it."
"aww it must be very cute."
"it sure is. i know you'd like him."
"i still want to get a puppy later."
"i don't doubt it."
she smiles again. still as beautiful as ever. moments pass, no one says a word. she asks you another quesiton. "what were you thinking about when i woke up?"
"nothing."
"come on, i know that face. something was on your mind."
"...i was just thinking back to that first night we spent together."
"oh."
"i've really missed you."
"i've missed you too."
it grows quiet again. tears start to well up in her eyes again. you notice that you're still holding her hand. just say something. "i..."
"yeah?" what can you say? you want nothing more than to be in her life, be there for her, be with her, and yet here you are,
watching her crumble before your eyes, powerless to do anything except
offer your condolences. but at that moment, you realize you
aren't powerless. there is nothing you can do to change the past. you
cannot go back in time and tell her these things, you can't go back and
stop her from hurting, but you can tell her now. you can tell her
exactly how you feel. you can tell her that she deserves better. you
can tell her that while you may have missed your opportunity before and
while things might not have worked out in the past, you aren't going to miss
another possibility to show her every day how wonderful she truly is,
you aren't going to miss another chance to show her how much you love
her. because yes, you know now that you still love her, more than you've
ever loved anyone before. "i love you."
she looks at you for a moment... and then you wake up...alone...wondering...if only. | | |
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