Post by zoot on May 5, 2006 15:46:42 GMT
AT PEACE
She lies at peace. Her life was hard, and her death harder, but she won’t suffer now. She was a breath of fresh air in my life, a loyal and faithful partner who never had a bad word for anyone except those very few who deserved it. Always a smile and a jokey way of putting things that made everyone smile. Why on earth she chose to be with me is still a puzzle, but I am so glad that she did, and am eternally grateful for the time we spent together. I can still smile at the memories though the tears are flowing.
We talked about death because we knew that it was on its way. She was more concerned about me, how I would cope, than she was about her pain, and still wore her smile, although it faded a little as the disease took hold. Through her worst times I felt useless because I couldn’t help her; could only hold her and wish the pain away. I held her for hours at a time, trying to comfort her, but always felt that my efforts were in vain and that I had betrayed her by not taking the pain away.
Now I look at the photographs, read the little notes which she left for me to find every day that we were together, look into the garden which she tended so caringly, and occasionally visit a spot which was special to us. She is gone but I still feel her presence, still hear her voice, still long to hold her and kiss her. I make tea for myself, then find that I have poured two cups. I make dinner and find that I have set two plates out. Every evening I walk through the front door after work, and sometimes stop myself from calling out her name.
Time heals, they say. But I don’t want to be healed - she wasn't - don’t ever want to forget her, or us. We’ll be together again, I know that, and in the meantime I will cherish every memory, good and bad, for as long as I live.
She lies at peace.
She lies at peace. Her life was hard, and her death harder, but she won’t suffer now. She was a breath of fresh air in my life, a loyal and faithful partner who never had a bad word for anyone except those very few who deserved it. Always a smile and a jokey way of putting things that made everyone smile. Why on earth she chose to be with me is still a puzzle, but I am so glad that she did, and am eternally grateful for the time we spent together. I can still smile at the memories though the tears are flowing.
We talked about death because we knew that it was on its way. She was more concerned about me, how I would cope, than she was about her pain, and still wore her smile, although it faded a little as the disease took hold. Through her worst times I felt useless because I couldn’t help her; could only hold her and wish the pain away. I held her for hours at a time, trying to comfort her, but always felt that my efforts were in vain and that I had betrayed her by not taking the pain away.
Now I look at the photographs, read the little notes which she left for me to find every day that we were together, look into the garden which she tended so caringly, and occasionally visit a spot which was special to us. She is gone but I still feel her presence, still hear her voice, still long to hold her and kiss her. I make tea for myself, then find that I have poured two cups. I make dinner and find that I have set two plates out. Every evening I walk through the front door after work, and sometimes stop myself from calling out her name.
Time heals, they say. But I don’t want to be healed - she wasn't - don’t ever want to forget her, or us. We’ll be together again, I know that, and in the meantime I will cherish every memory, good and bad, for as long as I live.
She lies at peace.