Hey
…
How long has it been? Two years?
…
I still can’t believe it.
…
Can you?
..
No, of course not. How could you?
…
I mean, it only changed me completely.
…
But you...
You didn’t.
…
…
I wish you could talk to me.
…
You never were able to, I know.
…
Being mute and all.
….
…
…
I never heard your voice. I never will.
Do you know how much that bothers me?
…
That I could never hear you tell me that you love me?
…
That I never heard your voice in the morning?
Because it bothered me then, and…
G******, does it … H***, it still bothers me today.
All these torturous moments later.
I was going to marry you.
I was going to propose.
J****.
S***, I’m crying now.
Darling, can you just…
Tell me you love me one more time?
…
Be—before I’m gone too?
…
…
Because I can’t…
I can’t deal with this, you know.
Two years ago, today…
I—I was going to propose, honey.
And then, you signed to me.
You said that you could hear this…
Sound coming from a few blocks away.
…
And I ignored you.
…
It’s all my f****** fault.
…
Why can’t I stop crying?
…
…
I said that it was—
That it was nothing.
And—a—and you were shaky and anxious
But you believed me.
Or, you just pretended you did.
You were d*** good at that.
…
You know that right?
…
You won’t answer.
Why would you?
But I loved you.
So when that guy came out and jumped us…
And then his stupid friend shot me.
And I was glad it was my hand.
Because then, I tried to knock the stupid gun out of his hand.
And then I did.
But the other guy...
He shot me again.
But he did it in my leg.
So when they pushed you down…
And the guy shot you…
I died.
Well, not literally.
Otherwise I wouldn’t be talking to you.
But I swear to God, you whispered something.
I didn’t know it was possible. But I heard it.
You turned your beautiful face towards me…
Smiled with bloody teeth and lips…
Bruised cheeks and a broken nose with black eyes…
Cuts on your skin like red paint brushed in quick small strokes in various places…
And you whispered to me, your blue eyes bloodshot…
Blood matted in your red hair...
…
And whispered to me.
“I love you.”
…
And tears ran down my face like they did on yours.
And he shot you. I couldn’t see where.
I passed out.
But I heard bullets ring in the air.
One, two…
And then it was black and empty and void of anything.
And then I was dreaming of how our life would have gone had they not…
Jumped us.
In the dream, we got married.
We didn’t adopt.
You decided it wasn’t worth the effort.
We died in each other’s arms while we were both asleep.
We were maybe eighty.
But I woke up in the hospital to the sounds of muffled voices and crying.
The beeping of heart machines.
And my eyes opened.
My parents cried with relief as well as yours.
I looked at the doctor and nurses who stood around the bed in my little private room.
One of the nurses was almost crying.
I looked confused at everyone.
Your parents cried even harder.
Then it hit me.
It hit me like a meteor hitting the Earth and blowing everything up if it’s in the way.
I felt like I was getting stretched around a black hole.
Because I couldn’t see any light from that day on and I might as well have been blind and deaf.
Dead.
I was better off dead.
I have been since that day.
…
I made a full recovery within seven months.
I took thirteen months of physical therapy.
I’m still in counseling and therapy.
I’m on a s*** ton of meds.
They don’t help.
I haven’t met anyone else.
I haven’t tried.
I haven’t been kissed since that day.
I never touched someone like I did to you.
Because it wasn’t worth it.
They weren’t worth it.
They aren’t.
You were.
Only you.
You’re still my world.
All these Hellish days later.
Earth isn’t.
This universe isn’t mine.
You’re my Universe.
And this—this is my fault.
Because, to be honest, had I decided to not take you out to dinner.
If I chose to stay home instead.
I wouldn’t be sitting here, sobbing my eyes out… crying my lungs out.
And I wouldn’t be sitting here, not even thirty.
On your grave.
On the grass that’s just growing.
In front of the flowers that I still bring every day.
The same flowers that were your favorite.
They’re even your favorite color.
I leave a candle here, lit, every time.
I sit here for hours a day, you know that?
Right after work, I come here.
I sit here until eleven at night and I light the candle.
It’s your favorite one.
You loved it so much.
I secretly hated it.
But I never said anything.
But now I have them all around the house, lit.
Almost all the time.
I have the cologne you’d wear.
You always preferred it over any other.
But you loved my perfume.
So you’d use them interchangeably.
And I listen to your favorite music all the time.
It reminds me of how you sang me to sleep most nights.
While I was embraced in your arms.
…
I’ll just—light the candle.
…
Well, darling, I’ll see you soon.
You’ll be able to speak to me.
Because I won’t…
I won’t see you l-like this.
I love you.
And, darling, I’m…
I’m coming home.
Goodnight, sweetheart.
I’ll see you in the morning.
Maybe sooner if we’re lucky.