… an exercise of writing from the perspective of someone else, proved easy and heartbreaking all at once.
Numb, silent and still … staring … silently screaming … now what?
The telephone rang not long after I returned from the hospital, there was quiet, I stood listening … she was gone … now what?
A scream, a blood-curdling scream was all that I could imagine issuing out of me but there was quiet, I had to tell the children that she was gone. I don’t know how I kept breathing, I don’t know how I stayed upright, I don’t know how I managed, I know some days I didn’t manage but I held on, this I knew I had to do, for the children and for the memory of her – my beautiful wife, the one I was meant to be with forever, my everything, my love, my friend, my all … she was gone and I was here left, with these three children of ours who I was now responsible for … me … just me … not us … not the life we were supposed to have … but a life that we would have … that would unfold somehow and in the end, I know not how, we got through, each of us broken in some way but still through and together.
She sits with me now as I think of the life I have had, as I think of the life I could have had if she had not been taken after just fifteen years of being married and a little more of being together. How would each of us have turned out if she was not gone? Perhaps more filled with life and love, perhaps not, we are together, we are love, we are alive … and really she is not all gone, parts of her lives in us all even the ones she has not met.