All I could feel was the cool wood of the chair. Her chair. My tears had long since dried, but they left the skin on my cheeks feeling raw and tight, like a recent wound trying desperately to heal. My elbows dug deeper in to my thighs as I futilely pulled my hair, hoping that by some miracle it would help to still my thoughts.
Was I doing the right thing?
I love my wife. Am I really ready to move on and leave her here, in our house, alone?
“I’m sorry,” I said, admitting to my guilt for the first time. “My Mina, I’m so sorry. I don’t want to leave but—“
I couldn’t say the words. I’ve been with Zoey for almost a year, but this moment should be between Mina and I alone.
“Then don’t. Don’t go.”
Her words are so clear and desperate, and full of love it makes me ache. I stare across the room, my rational mind overwhelmed by the futile hope racing across every nerve and making my hair stand on end. But after only a moment, reality settled back onto my weary shoulders. The decision had been made for awhile now.
“I have to. Its what’s best. For both of us.”
“Dad?”
The sound of Quinn’s voice broke the painful silence.
“Dad, what are you doing up here?”
I stood as he approached. Mina, our boy is a man now. Can you see it?
“Dad.” Quinn hugged me, and for a moment I was reminded of time where I held him like this, just after his dog died.
“She knows.” Both the pain and strength in his voice soothe me. “She’s been gone for two years, and wherever she is, she knows we love her. We always will, Dad.”
He continued on in his soothing, quiet tones, but I didn’t hear what he said. I remained silent as imaged from that night flashed through my mind. We’d been caught in the rain and her love of nature and life was infectious. I couldn’t have refused her that dance in the rain, even if I’d wanted to. I remembered her laughing at my concern over her high temperature, telling me it was the first omen of menopause. Then her words turned to coughs and finally a tired request for the rocking chair now resting next to me.
Quinn broke me out of my reverie with a plea to return downstairs with him. I saw her sweet, sad smile in my mind as we walked to the door. Quinn and I stopped in the doorway for one last look.
“We love you.”
Quinn’s words fill the vacant space that was once our bedroom and as I walked away I saw the chair rock slightly in the sunlight and heard her voice echo in my mind.
“I love you too. Always.”
1 comment:
Seriously, that was good. Really sad. I really liked reading both perspectives.
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