As many of you may know, it’s the month of writing: NaNoWriMo.
I am participating for the fourth year, but this will only be the third year that I complete the challenge, because I will complete it! NaNoWriMo 2016 is entirely dedicated to my second book, as I want the first draft done at the end of the month. This second book is semi-autobiographical – it’s about a couple of months in my life that had been so bizarre, that I wanted to share it in a book. However, I wanted to share in such a way that it makes a good story, hence the reason I have decided to mix fact with fiction. It’s when I was writing one of the fiction pieces that I totally choked up, and because I am pushed for time this month, I decided to share that piece with you.
Please keep in mind, this is the absolute RAW version!
On the last night in their house – she still thought of it as their house, even though her husband had passed more than a year ago – she sat in his chair, remembering. Their wedding day was on a clear winter’s day in November. The weather gods were good to them that day. They had enough love between them to last three lifetimes. Sometimes, even in their old age, they laughed at their own silliness when they acted like two love-sick teenagers. They never moved from being in love to getting used to being together. They never stopped being in love in all their years of being married. He was a gentleman and even though his health deteriorated as they grew older, he always put her interests ahead of his own. He supported her in all her crazy creative endeavors and was both supporter and critic, to keep her feet on the ground. Without him, she would never have finished anything she started. He encouraged her. He strengthened her. He supported her. Emma had always said that she could never live without him, but there she was, more than a year after that dreadful morning that she found him lifeless in bed next to her: still alive.
Silent tears ran over her cheeks. The grief gripped her heart in its iron fist and pushed all air from her body. Her breath caught in her throat as silent tears were replaced by heaving sobs. Oh god, I miss him so, she thought. It’s been more than a year since he left her and still every day he was in her mind. Sometimes she started talking to him, wanting to tell him about the stories in her head, only to realize that there was no one listening to her. Why had fate needed to be so cruel, to separate them when they still loved each other this deeply; when they always were inseparable?
Doubt joined the grief. Emma felt light-headed with fear. Had she made the wrong decision? Should she really leave their familiar home for something entirely new? What if she forgot him? What if their memories faded from her mind? Emma never wanted to forget the one who brought her the intense happiness she had known since the day they had met.
She woke up the next morning with a smile and dried tears on her face. That night she had dreamed of him – her late husband. In her dream they were still young, sitting on a slight hill between the yellow autumn grass and looking out over the landscape below. She sat between his legs, her back resting against his chest and he had his arms around her. Emma was at peace whenever he was close to her.
“I’m afraid to leave our house. Afraid I will forget you,” she said.
He hugged her close to him and whispered in her ear: “Don’t be afraid, my love. I am in your heart. Wherever you go, I go.”
“But our memories are here.”
“It is only a house. Walls and a roof,” he said. He always was the one who stated the facts and grounded her again.
“Take our memories with you, and make some new ones. I will be watching.”
Even in her dream Emma frowned upon the last words. Those words seemed so unlike her husband. He had always believed that death is the end and nothing comes after. Why would he tell her that he would be watching? Did he know something that she did not, now that he was on ‘the other side’? Before she could ask him about it in her dream, he spoke again: “You have to let me go, Puss.”
Tears burned her eyes when she heard him use his nickname for her. That was what he had always called her when they were together, never in front of other people.
“I do not want to let you go. I miss you.”
“I know, Emma. I know. But you have to live! Remember what you always said? You never want to regret one day because you haven’t lived. You’ve got some more dreams to follow. Do it! I will always be with you, wherever you go.”
While I wrote this I tried to picture how it should be when you lose the love of your life – in my case, Master T. I choke up when I wrote this. I find it incredibly difficult to think of a life without my husband, and hope I never have to be without him.
© Rebel’s Notes