Author: Aslan Israel PM
Of growing old and dying love. This is for you.Rated: Fiction K - English - Tragedy/Romance - Words: 760 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 2 - Published: 01-03-05 - id: 1798531
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
My eyes squint, unaccustomed to this light. Today I'll change those drapes. They let far too much light in; it kind of defeats the purpose of having them. But I know I won't. I've been saying that every morning for the past 67 years.
These old bones creak, threatening to break as I move to get out of bed. I trust them, though. They've never failed me. Not the way you did…
I've no energy or need to dress this morning. I'm not going anywhere, and there's no one to see me. No one but you. And you don't mind, I know. You never did. Besides, this is my favorite shirt. It's nothing special, I admit; just a regular old blue dress shirt two sizes too big. But you gave it to me.
It's slow going as I amble on to the bathroom. I remember getting angry at people who couldn't seem to move faster than a snail to save their lives. Now it seems it's the world that can't afford to wait for me to catch up. Not that all old people are slow. Just slower. And I don't need help, either. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Almost.
I love brushing my hair. Brushing it reminds me of the days when I used to have something to brush. Grandma used to say (God rest her soul), "Katelyn, there are three little bald kids running around somewhere, cause you got all their hair!" I hated my hair, though. It was so thick and long I could get a heat stroke in December if I wore it down. Ah, what I wouldn't give now for that all that hair back. My own is grey and thinning. But you said you didn't mind.
I don't have much of an appetite this morning. Not that I really eat that much anyway anymore. Nothing seems appealing the way it did when you were still alive.
The roses are in full bloom today. I've been spending a lot of my time watching them lately. I never imagined such a beautiful garden could come from the hands of man. I swear, only Eden is a lovelier sight. That's where our garden gets its namesake. When you first showed it to me, that's what you said. "Welcome to Eden, our little piece of Heaven." And it was indeed Heaven. But it wasn't the colors or the smells or even the flowers that made it so. It was Heaven because I could look at the window to see you walking through the rosebuds, instead of imagining it as I do now.
I was never very good with living things. You made and maintained that garden for me because I couldn't do it myself. Even in death, you said it would bloom forever. And it has, my love. It has. Though you are gone, the garden lives on. It seems neither rain nor snow nor scorching heat can bring the roses to their knees. It is the undying symbol of out love. Even now, as I sit on the porch bathed in the sweet fragrances and multitudes of color, I can feel you love.
Do you know what today is, my dear? I'm sure you do. It's out anniversary. Though you are gone I will still celebrate it, for we are married even in death. I can't remember much anymore, but I can remember that special day. That's when you first brought me here and introduced me to our little piece of Heaven.
But this day no longer seems special. It feels just like any other day, lost to endless time. And though I like to think you remain near watching over me, I can't help but feel you aren't. The roses seem to have lost their luster, and you have vanished too. Why would you leave me, my dear? Don't you still love me? I know I grow old, and my time short, but I would like you here. I miss you, Cory. Now more than ever. But if you can't even stand to linger in such a place anymore, why should I?
I need a sign, anything. Anything to show me you still reside in this eternal garden. This ancient heart still loves you. Will always love you. But even now as I close my eyes, the flowers begin to fade...