Goodbye (337 hits)
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Submitted by Tastycat <guysmily00.at.hotmail.com> (View user info) at 2004-04-02 16:34:19 EST
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Standing beside the white front door, I gazed down at her and she smiled. It had been a long day together, but a fun day. One full of me blowing raspberries on her tummy whenever I got the chance and lots of random hugging and holding. I pulled her into me, and I inhaled her with everything I had. I held her close and I clung on to her as if she were my life supply.
Perhaps in that moment, that's what she represented, anyway.
I thought about all the things she'd said to me tonight. But in that moment, I wanted so desperately to press my lips against hers. I never forgot what she told me, though. And so I didn't.
And as she opened the front door and started to leave, I reflected one last time on how this moment, this second, was my last chance to do it. Then I shook my head a bit and she began trekking through the snow.
She was half-way to the car when I spoke.
"I love you, Sarah."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That was the last time I ever saw her. She was in an accident on the way home and was dead before the paramedics arrived.
I wasn't allowed to see her because the truck that had collided with her small japanese car had nearly severed her torso, and left deep gouges all along her body and face.
I can't stop thinking of that night as she left my house. All of the little things that could have been done, been said, or been changed. What if I had kissed her? What if I had invited her to stay another hour, another day, another year? Some things you can just never know the answer to, but that doesn't mean that you don't wonder about them.
After her funeral, as I sat on the couch in her living room where I had first met her, thinking of all the times we had shared in that room. I recognised the careful placement of the rug to cover the stain of blood from one of our many wrestling matches. I recognised the faded flowery wallpaper from when we had painstakingly applied it to the wall while making jokes about what bad taste her parents had. I recognised every single picture on the wall and cluttered on shelves and bookcases around the room; some were from times I had been with her, but the majority of what I knew was from the countless stories she had shared with me.
Her mother startled me when she spoke, I guess I was too lost in my thoughts to notice her enter the room.
"You know, she always loved you." she said quietly. "I know she always seemed so wrapped up in life and school, but she always tried to make time for you."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
All this time I'd been wondering how much life was going to change and I realised that nothing was ever going to be the same for me. I would never again see her laughing eyes or smiling mouth; I would never again be able to watch her slipping into the water of my backyard pool, or fall asleep talking to her on the phone. But just because she's dead doesn't mean that she's gone. Every now and then I catch a trace of her, just a little reminder of who she was. I feel as though she's always there to help me through hard times, a guardian angel of sorts.
As I look back on that day I distinctly remember not saying goodbye.
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