Shadow of Us

{This story contains themes of grief}

Waking up next to her was always a privilege. Watching the sun slowly waltz through the window and illuminate her brown waves was a sight that I knew I would be eager to wake up next to every single morning. I watched as the light touched her skin, reminding me that she was the light that lit up my darkest nights. She would always be my beacon to call me home when I was lost and I would always be there to protect her, just as I promised on the day we said “I do.”

As I lay next to her, I can’t help but admire her soft features that look so calm in sleep. Her small ears that she insists on adorning with jewelry that screams her personality to anyone who looks her way. The small button nose that scrunches when she’s trying so hard not to laugh or when she’s offered a cooked carrot and has to politely decline for fear of offending the cook. I study the subtle rise and fall of her chest and hope that whatever she’s dreaming is bringing her peace and a joy that seems to have left her eyes lately.

Today will be a hard day. But just like every day, I would watch her get up and put one foot in front of the other. I would watch her lift her chin and take a deep breath. Give life to her lungs before she takes that step to begin her day. I would watch her, protect her, and support her. Always and in any way that I could. She is the light in my darkness and the peace within my tragedy. Her heart will always be mine to protect.

I close my eyes for a second to revel in the comfort of her laying next to me and feel the bed shift. When my eyes open again, she’s sitting on the edge of the bed with her back to me and her head resting gently in her hands. I can feel her stress, her anxiety, and I can feel her sadness. Yet, through all that, as her curls fall gently over her fingers she is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever beheld. She could make the stars cry with her radiance and make them pale in comparison.

Before I could reach for her she got up to move to the bathroom and shut the door. The sounds of the shower running immediately filled the room. I pulled myself off the mattress and sat for a while contemplating what I could do. How could I improve this day that I already knew was going to be hard. None of it is her fault, but I know I have to do something. She likes to shut down and shut everyone out in the process. Being alone is her sanctuary, but being alone with just her mind is a prison. Some say dissociation is a super power, but most are just waiting for the inevitable crash. I just hope I could be there, in some capacity, to help gather up the pieces in the aftermath.

I moved from the bedroom through our living room, checking to make sure the house was in some sort of order. If it got too out of hand, she would get overwhelmed. I double checked the coffee pot was plugged in, her mug was in the same place she left it the day before, and that the flowers littered around the house were still in full bloom. It took too much energy to keep them alive forever, but I could at least make them last long enough for her to have something beautiful to look at everyday if only for just a few weeks.

I heard her movements upstairs as she exited the bathroom and presumably made her way downstairs. She moved slowly these days. Like each of those steps forward was a struggle, met with a 200 lbs weight on her shoulders. When we first met, she was full of life and her eyes would light up every time I had the opportunity to gaze into her hazel eyes that seemed to shine like gold in the right lighting. I hadn’t seen that light in nearly a year, her eyes looked like hollow windows with no clear direction as to where she might be headed.

I heard the familiar creak of her weight on the steps as she made her way down the stairs. Slowly, deliberately, she took each step down. She stopped for a second and I looked up at her as she stared at the picture of our wedding day that hung on the wall midway down the stairs. I watched as she slowly, delicately, raised her hand and touched the glass. I felt the air enter into her lungs as if it was my own when she took a deep breath. But before I could hear her release it, I moved into the small library off of the sitting room at the end of the stairs.

I waited patiently as she made her way through the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee and listened for the back screen door to open, letting me know she had moved into the crisp autumn morning. The library used to be her favorite place in the house. She would curl up in the bay window, scrutinizing the structure of each sentence and how they were put together. I had no idea what she was saying half the time, but she was captivating every time she passionately launched into the actions of a character and the depth to which their movements meant something by the simplest of gestures. I wanted to know more only so I could keep the look on her face and hold it forever. She was breathtaking in every sense of the word.

I quietly moved around the library, making sure there was no dust and nothing out of place so when she chose to return to this room it would once again be her pristine sanctuary. There wasn’t much I could do, but I would do anything to make sure that she knew she was cared for and that I would always care for her. I heard the screen door open and poked my head out of the library to see that she was carrying a bouquet of white lilies. She grew a lot of flowers in her garden, but she always said that white lilies were her favorite. They symbolized rebirth, purity, and new beginnings. She knew so many little things and her mind continued to amaze me as she placed meaning and symbolism throughout her life to remind her of the strength she has maintained. She was incredible.

She walked past me with the freshly cut bouquet and out the door. I silently followed her to the car, sitting beside her in the passenger seat. She stared straight ahead and took a deep breath before turning on the ignition.

Today will be a hard day for her.

Today I died, exactly one year ago.

She placed the lilies on top of my grave, just as she did on my casket 365 days ago. I promised her forever and I would give her forever in any way that I could, until the darkness takes us both but she will always remain my light.