[Original] Goodbye, tragedy
Author: Ebony Lay
Summary: This is a story about loss. Nothing more, nothing less.
Status: In progress?
When they told me you where gone, I found my reaction unusual. I wasn't sad, not in the least. Why should I? Really, are you gone? My body cried, but my mind stayed calm. All around me, people were hysterical and screaming of your death, I shed a few tears. Days went by, I continued to move on.
"I'm so sorry about your loss."
How do you respond to a phrase like that? Thank you? That's okay? What is to be so sorry about you leaving, love, you never left. Your picture was pasted in the newspapers, clips of home movies where displayed on the evening news. I even had a press conference, you would be proud of me, I didn't break once. I'm not in denial, I know you are dead. I had to go and identify your body, remember? That was when I began to cry. I guess I was numb to the whole thing, I don't know. Life went on, days flew by, your name always settled in the back of my mind. It was weeks before the numbness disappeared and the pain flew in.
I was walking in a store when it happened. Funny, how something as simple as pushing a shopping cart down a busy aisle could stir so many emotions. It hurt so bad! I felt every step grow heavy, every blink threatened to spill tears. Breathing became impossible, I felt as if I died. I stopped and waited. I waited for you to grab my shoulders and steer me towards the electronic section like you always did. I waited for you to jump from under a clothes rack, a dreadful shirt in your hand. I waited for you to beg me to try it on. I waited for a stolen kiss. I wanted for us to walk side by side, barely speaking as we leisurely walked from aisle to aisle. We had the most deepest and most useless conversations during these trips.
I finally realised, you would never, ever do those things again. The other things that we planned to do, or the things that could have been done on a whim--you can't do them too. I will never feel your hand clasped in mine, or the rich laughter of your voice. I stood there in the aisle, out of my mind, not knowing where to go next. I wanted to leave this store and all of the memories, but I did not want to go home. How could I sit in our empty car and enter an empty home? How could I go on without knowing that you were at my side?
So that's how I ended up here, sitting by your grave. I've told you about how everyone else is doing. They miss you as much as I do. I know I'll have to move on, and you would have given me an earful for sitting out in the cold like this. I just had to see you.
And finally say good-bye.
Summary: This is a story about loss. Nothing more, nothing less.
Status: In progress?
When they told me you where gone, I found my reaction unusual. I wasn't sad, not in the least. Why should I? Really, are you gone? My body cried, but my mind stayed calm. All around me, people were hysterical and screaming of your death, I shed a few tears. Days went by, I continued to move on.
"I'm so sorry about your loss."
How do you respond to a phrase like that? Thank you? That's okay? What is to be so sorry about you leaving, love, you never left. Your picture was pasted in the newspapers, clips of home movies where displayed on the evening news. I even had a press conference, you would be proud of me, I didn't break once. I'm not in denial, I know you are dead. I had to go and identify your body, remember? That was when I began to cry. I guess I was numb to the whole thing, I don't know. Life went on, days flew by, your name always settled in the back of my mind. It was weeks before the numbness disappeared and the pain flew in.
I was walking in a store when it happened. Funny, how something as simple as pushing a shopping cart down a busy aisle could stir so many emotions. It hurt so bad! I felt every step grow heavy, every blink threatened to spill tears. Breathing became impossible, I felt as if I died. I stopped and waited. I waited for you to grab my shoulders and steer me towards the electronic section like you always did. I waited for you to jump from under a clothes rack, a dreadful shirt in your hand. I waited for you to beg me to try it on. I waited for a stolen kiss. I wanted for us to walk side by side, barely speaking as we leisurely walked from aisle to aisle. We had the most deepest and most useless conversations during these trips.
I finally realised, you would never, ever do those things again. The other things that we planned to do, or the things that could have been done on a whim--you can't do them too. I will never feel your hand clasped in mine, or the rich laughter of your voice. I stood there in the aisle, out of my mind, not knowing where to go next. I wanted to leave this store and all of the memories, but I did not want to go home. How could I sit in our empty car and enter an empty home? How could I go on without knowing that you were at my side?
So that's how I ended up here, sitting by your grave. I've told you about how everyone else is doing. They miss you as much as I do. I know I'll have to move on, and you would have given me an earful for sitting out in the cold like this. I just had to see you.
And finally say good-bye.