Love Lasts

April 12, 2011
I haven’t always been like this. A dying old man, lying in an uncomfortable nursing home bed, feeble. No, I used to court women everyday when I was younger. That was, until I met my dear Sarah-Beth, may she rest in peace, and settled down in Ohio. We met at the 1929 All Ohio Boy’s Band at the Ohio State Fair. I was 20 at the time, and she was 19. She was beautiful, I wanted to talk to her, I did, but I was too chicken. Finally, after enough staring, she noticed me, and talked to me. We hit it off immediately. We ended up getting married and having three children, classic true love story, right? Well, not so much.
When I was 48, and she was 47, she started getting really bad migraines, and joint pain, and lethargic, and was getting terrible infections more and more often. We finally decided to go to the doctor, even if this one visit would bring us to our knees with the bank. Our finances were in six’s and seven’s. The doctor gave us some antibiotics, called it a small immune-system failure, and sent us on our way. He said it would be gone in a few weeks, but it stayed for months. Eventually she started to get even more tired, and week, so after a year she just stayed in her room. I stayed with her every single moment she was back there. I only left to go to the grocery store, make food, and use the facilities. It was the eve of her 50th birthday when I found her. I’d gone to get a small cake for her and I to eat. I told her I loved her, kissed her forehead and left. I came back about 45 or 50 minutes later. I put the cake down on the kitchen counter. I called for her and told her I got no reply. I didn’t think much of it; maybe she was taking a nap. But I decided just to go back and check, make sure. She looked like she was just napping, so I went to wake her and tell her I was back, so that she would wake and worry. I said her name and she didn’t reply, so I repeated. I kept repeating, and I began yelling. I felt for her pulse, and it was gone. I didn’t know what to do; I just sat and cried, and ran as fast as my aging body would allow me. Her cause of death was Acute Luekemias.

The funeral was 7 days later. I stayed for hours, knelt at her grave, just staring at her name on the shining black marble. Storm clouds brewed in the east and I stayed. I stayed until the rain was pouring down on my body, leaving me drenched. I walked home in the rain. It was dark there, and it was all too silent. Without her there, and her warm voice there to welcome me, it was unbearable. The shadow of life always seems darker when someone in our life who has shined their light on us leaves. I shut down. I couldn’t eat, I didn’t drink, and I stopped caring. I gave up the will to live. I just sat down, memories consuming my whole. I stayed like that, until I felt the last of my energy slipping away. It was then that my sister came in and found me. She had been worried since she hadn’t seen me or heard from me in so long. She force fed me food, and I lived. I took this as a sign. She wouldn’t have wanted me to kill myself, She would have wanted me to live. So that’s what I did. I never found love again. I found myself too old. I loved by the love of my family, and friends. Because that is what I found best to return to, when I found myself empty of love.

And now, I am dying. I am but a breath away from seeing Her again. I find it ironic that I am dying of the same awful thing that she died from. The thing that rips apart also pulls together. I simply can’t wait.





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MrNinjaredbird said...
Apr. 19, 2011 at 9:09 am
I was sitting in my school library  reading this and it brought me to tears. This was a GREAT story. Please keep writing because this was wonderful.
 
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