in whatever she wanted to do. As long as it made her happy.
I shared this great revelation with her the night she died, or at least I assume I did. It was my plan to. I don't remember now.
She had a closed casket funeral so the very last image I have of her face was the one of her in a fit of fury because I couldn't understand, or maybe accept, the request she had made. She was pissed, and she was as beautiful as I'll ever remember her being.
I have pictures of her, of when she was happy, joyful, cheerful, because of me. But those feel fake. Those aren't pictures of how I remember her being. Maybe she was happy and joyful in the last few moments we had together. Maybe I'll never know. Or maybe my memory will come back to me one day.
I don't even dream of the accident, through the day or the night. It feels like something that happened before your birth. Sure, it happened, but it didn't really happen to you, and therefore, doesn't really affect you, because you weren't around yet. Sure, the accident happened and she died, but it doesn't really affect me because I wasn't actually there.
But I was there.
I left the hospital 3 days later with only a bandage on my head and some nasal packing. She left on a covered stretcher with only half of her blood.
I don't drive, at least not yet. Not because I have fears of what happened before; I don't even remember what happened before. I'm afraid that if I start driving I'll start remembering. Things like the accident, how it happened, who was at fault. I'm afraid I'll remember her. Things like her not wanting to be with me, no matter how supportive I may seem. Things like us having a huge fight right before it ended. Things like us never talking again. Things like her hating me.
There's just as good of a chance that I'll remember her being happy, glad that we could be friends. Glad that we could still spend the rest of our lives together, in whichever sense of the word.
And there's just as good of a chance that I'll still remember nothing.
I guess it feels that me remembering that day would make things no better
I shared this great revelation with her the night she died, or at least I assume I did. It was my plan to. I don't remember now.
She had a closed casket funeral so the very last image I have of her face was the one of her in a fit of fury because I couldn't understand, or maybe accept, the request she had made. She was pissed, and she was as beautiful as I'll ever remember her being.
I have pictures of her, of when she was happy, joyful, cheerful, because of me. But those feel fake. Those aren't pictures of how I remember her being. Maybe she was happy and joyful in the last few moments we had together. Maybe I'll never know. Or maybe my memory will come back to me one day.
I don't even dream of the accident, through the day or the night. It feels like something that happened before your birth. Sure, it happened, but it didn't really happen to you, and therefore, doesn't really affect you, because you weren't around yet. Sure, the accident happened and she died, but it doesn't really affect me because I wasn't actually there.
But I was there.
I left the hospital 3 days later with only a bandage on my head and some nasal packing. She left on a covered stretcher with only half of her blood.
I don't drive, at least not yet. Not because I have fears of what happened before; I don't even remember what happened before. I'm afraid that if I start driving I'll start remembering. Things like the accident, how it happened, who was at fault. I'm afraid I'll remember her. Things like her not wanting to be with me, no matter how supportive I may seem. Things like us having a huge fight right before it ended. Things like us never talking again. Things like her hating me.
There's just as good of a chance that I'll remember her being happy, glad that we could be friends. Glad that we could still spend the rest of our lives together, in whichever sense of the word.
And there's just as good of a chance that I'll still remember nothing.
I guess it feels that me remembering that day would make things no better
