Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
As I stand before his lifeless body in the funeral home, I realize I can ask him. Yet I know I won’t get any answers. My eyes journey down his body. He’s in a suit. Billy never wore suits. His hair is combed to the side. He never wore his hair like that. They’ve attempted to inject color into his gaunt face with thick makeup, trying to make him look as close to the Billy that I married. He looks nothing like the man I married. He hasn’t looked like the man I married for years. Now, lying here, he looks like a poorly made-up mannequin. I wish I’d never come. This isn’t an improvement on the dying man I loved. This isn’t my Billy.
I pull out a picture from my bag. This is the man I married. Fresh, fit, healthy, and full of zest for life. I stare at the image of us on our wedding day, all laughter and smiles, and a single tear tumbles down my cheek. This was the last time Billy was seen smiling properly. It was the last time he picked me up and swirled me around. It was the last time he held my hand with strength and ownership. A teardrop hits the picture, and I frantically brush it away before it can soak into the paper.
“Do you know how much it hurt me every time you told me to leave you?” I ask his smiling face. “It hurt terribly. I would never have abandoned you. Never. You were a stubborn, cantankerous sod, but I would never have left you.” Keeping my voice steady is easier than it should be. Perhaps because I need him to hear each word clearly. “I love you, Billy. More than my own life, I love you. Asking me to leave you was cruel. And I don’t think I’ll ever understand why you distanced yourself from me. How you pushed me away. I’ll never understand why you kept your walls up and didn’t allow me to have that extra time with you, when I needed it. I needed it so much. And, honestly, I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive you for that.” I feel my voice starting to break and find some tissues, wiping my face and blowing my nose.
This. Hurts. God, it hurts so much.
I’ll never stop loving him, but I hope and pray that one day I’ll be less angry with him. I needed more time. I wanted more days.
I lower myself to a nearby chair, keeping my eyes on his picture, feeling like I have a connection far deeper than any time since Billy was diagnosed. “I never slept with Luke,” I say. “But he’s cuddled me a lot. I needed those cuddles, Billy. I needed them so much.” My voice finally fails me, and I spend a few minutes breathing steadily, trying to keep myself together. “Luke isn’t a bad man. He just tried to be there for me. When he told me that he’d fallen in love with me, I was stunned. I mean, who could possibly love me other than my husband? And now you’re gone, and I don’t know what to do.” I lose my battle and tears begin to pour from my eyes unstoppably, my words now cracked and broken, and I’m furious about that. I want them to be steady. Together. Billy would want me to be together. “I don’t want you to feel inadequate. I don’t want to feel this guilt that’s chewing away at my insides. I feel guilty because I’m relieved you’re no longer suffering. I’m relieved you’re now at rest. And I feel guilty for looking at Luke and being glad he’s here for me.” I grit my teeth. “I don’t want you to haunt him forever if I can’t let him look after me. Promise you won’t do that,” I demand, shaking his picture lightly. “Promise me, Billy.” More tears form and start to gush, my stability leaving me completely. “Promise me,” I shout at him. I drop the picture when I get no answer, burying my face in my hands and sobbing my heart out. My stomach’s aching from the force of my crying, my eyesight as blurred as my world feels. There’s no definition. No clear direction for me to head in. I feel trapped between worlds, more helpless now than I’ve ever felt before.
Hiding seems like the only way. Hiding with the hope that when I’m found, everything will be much better. That I won’t hurt so much. That I won’t feel as though my heart has shattered into a million pieces. That I won’t feel so hopeless.
After numbly being walked through the arrangement with the funeral directors, I step outside into the rain, not bothering to find my umbrella in my bag. The rain feels good pelting at my scalp. I feel like I’m in limbo, caught between life and death. Between turmoil and peace.