April 14, 2015
Everything feels surreal. Like my life has been one long nightmare for weeks, and my mind refuses to admit that the nightmare is reality and not a dream. When I sleep I see him get better, I see him leave the hospital and I see him smile and laugh off what happened. I see him assuring me that he's alive, telling me not to worry, that reality was the dream and this was what's real. And then I open my eyes and I'm in bed and the truth sits on my chest and keeps my lungs from expanding.
He is gone. He did not get better. I saw him for the last time lying in a hospital bed, his chest vibrating as the ventilators fought to keep him alive. The last I know of him is a number on a machine. The last I ever heard his voice -I can't remember what he said. It kills me that I can't remember. I've tried so hard, but I can't even remember what he was wearing on that last night, or what he said before he left.
I don't even know if he ever knew that I loved him more than I ever showed. I don't know if he knew that he mattered.
All that is left of him now are memories that hurt more than I can bear. All that is left are things he left undone, and words he left unsaid.
I miss him.
Everything feels surreal. Like my life has been one long nightmare for weeks, and my mind refuses to admit that the nightmare is reality and not a dream. When I sleep I see him get better, I see him leave the hospital and I see him smile and laugh off what happened. I see him assuring me that he's alive, telling me not to worry, that reality was the dream and this was what's real. And then I open my eyes and I'm in bed and the truth sits on my chest and keeps my lungs from expanding.
He is gone. He did not get better. I saw him for the last time lying in a hospital bed, his chest vibrating as the ventilators fought to keep him alive. The last I know of him is a number on a machine. The last I ever heard his voice -I can't remember what he said. It kills me that I can't remember. I've tried so hard, but I can't even remember what he was wearing on that last night, or what he said before he left.
I don't even know if he ever knew that I loved him more than I ever showed. I don't know if he knew that he mattered.
All that is left of him now are memories that hurt more than I can bear. All that is left are things he left undone, and words he left unsaid.
I miss him.
No comments:
Post a Comment