I sat down on the long window seat and opened my journal. The purple and white flowers were still perfectly shaped like the day I got them. Despite their dryness, they still had a slight perfume and I couldn’t help but to smile and think of that day. Staring out the window at the sunset, I felt the tears brimming my eyes, maybe its not a matter of just getting over it and moving on. Maybe this is a matter of healing my heart and becoming free. Its been weeks since you left me…in my hull of lifeless days, you were the color that seemed to give the world a better look. Now I only see you in photographs, the pictures of me in your arms, in the white dress I thought would be the only one I would wear. Now you’re there, in that space we call the city of gold, with pearly gates and people in white. Why did you have to go so soon?
Setting down my journal, I dusted off the table and put your letters in a box, reading each one carefully, I can see your face with each word. I can feel your love, your soul, each pen mark like a deep gift to someone who knew each of your cracks and lines. I hear someone knock on the door.I promised I would call him, but what would he say if he knew I still miss you? That every fingertip dreams of touching you again, and feeling your arms protecting me from the world. What would he say if he knew, that I am still madly in love with you? I wander to the door and open it slowly, he takes me hand and sits with me on the couch.
“Its okay to not be okay. I know he will always be in your heart. I just hope you can open up to being my heart.” he says, the tears finally run down my cheeks. What beautiful words from such a rugged person. His rough hands sweep my hair behind my ears. I can feel myself falling into his arms, I may not give any part of my heart to him now, but maybe eventually, I can love again. His brown hair falls over onto my head, I wish I could hear your voice, I need to know what to do. My hands shake as I try to stand up and put myself together. I stare at him, he stares back, “Its okay. You don’t have to be anything but you right now.” he says. I take a deep breath and nod, looking up at the ceiling I can feel my soul calling to you, “I wish you were here.”
I make coffee as he starts to box up your things, looking down at my hands realizing the ring of gold, the true promise, is still on my finger. I don’t think I can bring myself to take it off just yet. “Peter… why?” I ask, he looks at me with understanding, “Sometimes, God can’t wait to see his beautiful children I suppose, and maybe, things just happen. Its up to you now, what you’re going to do.” I look down again, he is probably right. I suppose I should be happy I had three years with you, but now, she will never know your touch, or your voice when you sing. She will never see where she got her blue eyes, all she will know is you’re with Him in heaven. Sometimes I feel like everything is fragmented like, I just can’t connect my days in a string of understanding. Putting my cup down I go to the living room and take your boxes to the attic, “Peter, I have to tell you something… its not just that I’m still madly in love…. its not just that I miss him. It’s that… he left too soon, he left before I could tell him….”