To Me

April 17, 2009
By Toni Langr BRONZE, Nicollet, Minnesota
Toni Langr BRONZE, Nicollet, Minnesota
3 articles 1 photo 0 comments

Freak accidents, assassinations, mass murders, mall shootings. You see those stories on the evening news, you read about them months later in Reader’s Digest, you talk about them at dinner with your wife, or with your boss, and in the back of your mind rests an eternal subconscious thought, that’ll never happen to me, I could never lose somebody that way. Guess what, you’re wrong.

It happened to me so quickly. She was talking animatedly about her latest idea for a story. She would tell anybody she was an author. In reality she was a financial advisor, and had published next to nothing. But that didn’t matter, she mostly just liked to write. Her red curls bounced slightly as she spoke and laughed. Her arm was hooked through mine, and I was leaning down towards her when she let out a sharp cry. The next thing I remember was kneeling on the pavement in her blood. There was so much blood. Could anybody lose so much and live? It flooded her sundress as she coughed weakly. There is no feeling more dreadful than holding someone as you watch them die. I knew she would die, I sobbed for help though I knew that while everything was being done, nothing could be done. So much blood.

No man or woman can ever put into words the pain of losing the one you love. Some have said it’s like being stabbed. But people live through stabbings, no one lives through death. I am not the same person without her. She was my love, my better half, my soul. I would kill a Mockingbird if I thought it would bring her back for just a few minutes, to kiss her goodnight one more time, to stop an argument before it began, to admit I was wrong, to brush away a tear. But I can never touch her again. Dammit!

I never thought it could happen to me. I look back on all the petty things, misunderstandings, nights spent in separate rooms, and my heart twists in agony. I wish I had those moments back, to fix. I wish I had told her ‘I love you’ more often, all the time in fact. I wish I had been able to give her the child she so desperately wanted. If I had only known how little time I had, I would not have left so many things unsaid. Too many regrets.

But Love happened to me, and it was the most beautiful thing in the world. That love was pure, untainted by the blood, profanity, and regrets. It all happened to me.

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