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Thoughts of a Widower

Author: saartha
ASL Info:    27/F/US
Elite Ratio:    4.01 - 230 /393 /145
Words: 838
Class/Type: Prose /Depressed
Total Views: 1860
Average Vote:    No vote yet.
Bytes: 4574


A quick drabble done in the wee hours of the morning. I don't normally write prose, but I was fairly satisfied with how this had turned out.

Thoughts of a Widower

Today, I woke up as the sun went down and wondered why you weren’t there with me. Why you hadn’t woken up with me. The living room, where we had spent so many evenings together, was half void and half golden-red glory. I myself was betwixt the two. My head hurt, my right hand was wrapped around a beer bottle. It was all I had left of you, this one beer. The only type you’d ever drink. I still have your shirts, your clothing, but they’re clean. They don’t smell like you anymore. You’ve been replaced by soaps, deodorizers, things that smell of chemicals and alcohol and hospitals. The beer was the only thing that you left me, before you went.

The doorbell rang once, twice, and then fell silent. This was not the first time that the deathly silence in our halls had been disturbed. A red light blinked steadily, rhythmically at the edge of my vision, in the shadowed side of the room. Twenty four calls, twenty four messages, and not a single one from you.

I would never hear your voice again, even through the static-filled recordings of our phone. I would never see you outside of photographs. Pictures would never be enough, they could never show what you were truly like. Your smile, when captured, lost all joy for me. If only you were here, so I could see it one last time. So I could touch skin rough from the rigors of life, a hard life that you had never once backed down from.

My head hurt from drinking myself into unconsciousness over and over again, but it was nothing compared to how I felt when I was sober. The pain was dulled a bit. No, that’s a lie. I missed you every bit as much drunk as clear-headed. There was no more solace to be found in drinking even your beer.

The sun sank low on the horizon. The gold on the carpet slowly, gently crept away from me. My right arm stretched, following it as far as it could. And then, the light slipped from my grasp and I was warm no more. You were my warmth, my soul, my very being. With you gone, I’m nothing. Not even a husk of what I once was, with you by side. Not a shadow remains of the person I used to be.

Another phone call, another unanswered ring. A short message that I didn’t bother to listen to. They were all the same. Call me, sorry to hear, lets get together and drink away our sorrows. They had all been the same since the hospital called. It was all that drivers fault…

Another lie. It was my fault. You wouldn’t have been out there, driving in the dark, if I hadn’t made you angry. If we hadn’t fought, if I hadn’t pushed you away, you wouldn’t have gone. You would still be here. I don’t deserve your warmth. I didn’t deserve you at all. I think that was why I was upset to begin with. I was so afraid you’d leave me. I was so scared that I’d be alone, without you. If you were here, I bet you’d laugh. You always were a fan of irony.

When they called, my heart stopped. I don’t think its started back up again yet. I don’t care if it ever does. I didn’t think you would ever die. When I got in my car and drove to the hospital, I though that once I was there, once we were together again, everything would be okay. But by the time I got there, you were gone.

Oh, your body was still there. But it was gray everywhere there wasn’t red. They didn’t want to let me see you, because they said that you were already gone, but I wouldn’t believe them. It wasn’t until I touched you, shook you to wake you up, that I knew you had left me.

I’m sorry. I know you didn’t hold grudges, that you were too good to ever do something like that, but I’m sorry anyway. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you. It wasn’t that we were two halves of a whole. You never allowed yourself to rely on me that much. Rather, you made me a better person without ever asking anything in return.

It’s a beautiful crisp autumn evening, and all the windows are open. Its cold in here, but you always liked the cold. The weatherman said it was going to rain, but I guess Mother Nature decided I’ve cried enough for the both of us. I sobbed over you, and I haven’t stopped crying yet.

I keep feeling around the floor, looking for some still-warm spot, seeking heat from a sun long since set. I miss you. I miss you so much. I’m so cold without you. Please, bring back the warmth. I need you.

Submitted on 2007-02-10 17:20:14     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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  That Deserved a comment. I don't usually even READ prose, i lack the attention span for it, heh. But just damn! That was Very good, which sounds lame but i really can't think of anything better. This was...beautiful, tragic, wonderful, sad..well written, and more but i don't know what. It took my breath away. It's an old idea, but this gave it, i dunno, a rejuvenating shine...odd for a story so sad.

| Posted on 2007-09-17 00:00:00 | by misty_of_moon | [ Reply to This ]

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