January 25, 2005

• The Valentine's Day I Cried

  
  

  I sat beside him for hours.  Six hours, to be precise.  I stroked his hair, spoke to him in a low voice, reminding him of my love.  I straightened his jacket and tie.  I kissed him again and again, his forehead, his nose, his cheeks.  I couldn't bring myself to kiss his lips.

  
  

  We had reservations at our favorite restaurant in town.  He had made them earlier in the week.  I reminded him of this fact, cursed him.  "Come on, get up!  Lets go!"  It was not only Valentines Day, it was also our half-year anniversary.  We were married on August 14th, 1982.  Each Valentines Day was extra-special, and we would always celebrate his putting up with me for another 6 months.  He always loved to celebrate, and never once did he forget an anniversary or birthday.

  
  

  I thought about the hostess at the restaurant, holding our table, wondering where we were, probably irritated that her table was sitting empty; wishing with every fibre of my being that we could walk in together, hand in hand, order our favorite dishes and drinks, laugh and kiss, talk about the kids and work, about what we would do on the weekend.

  
  

  Instead I nuzzled his cold ear.  He didn't look like himself at all, in fact, he looked terrible.  His mouth never looked like that!  Who did this to him?  I was dismayed.

  
  

  I was glad only our closest loved ones and friends came to the viewing that night, I was glad I had decided to have him cremated before the funeral tomorrow, only his urn would be there when the crowds came.  He wouldn't be embarrassed by how unnatural he looked.  I comforted him with these thoughts. " I'm still looking out for you, baby, dont you worry".

  
  

  People came and went that Valentines day, came and showed thier respects.  Some lingered, some quickly left.  I could hear them crying, blowing thier noses, comforting each other.  Our kids would come and lay thier hands on me, try to get me to come away for a bit, maybe get something to drink.  But I couldn't separate myself from him, I couldn't go sit in the pews, I had to be right next to him, the last day I would ever see him, touch him, kiss him again.  I don't remember when they gave in and brought me a chair, I don't remember who stood beside me to pay their last respects, who had to look past the tears and pain of his widow to say thier goodbyes to a wonderful man.

  
  

  It was our 20 and one-half year anniversary...........and it was so, so wrong.  Like being caught in a bad movie, I lay there with my head on his chest, and I prayed to wake up, to "please God, let me wake up!".

  
  

  Valentine's Day will never be the same for me.

  
  

  

  
  

  ___________________________________________________________________

  
  

  Sorry to be so depressing, this is for Koffee Kween, so blame her!

  • 12:55 pm
  • 20 Comments