Sentence to a Story - Four Days

TW death

Four days ago we were happy… oblivious, rather. Four days ago, I held your hand in mine, and now I no longer can. It’s only been four days but each one before them meant more than we ever realised. Would I have treasured each moment more, if I’d known the end would come so fast?

Would you have?

I hate having to say goodbye, and you know that about me, so maybe it was better that we didn’t get the chance; maybe it was for the better that it happened so fast. Though, it was so fast for you, for me it was slower. I felt my life slip away from me, my hand gripped by a stranger I pretended was you; it was so, so painfully slow.

I wish more than anything that we could go back four days. Back to before we were separated by the biggest barrier there can be, the biggest obstacle any lovers can face. Back to before it happened, before I left the house that night.

It was cold, I remember now. There was a strong wind, and light rain but we’d run out of milk and bread and dog food, and it seemed as good a time as any to go to the shop. You’d asked me if I wanted you to come… I said no. I said, ‘No, I’ll be alright, it isn’t far.’ How silly that seems now, how easily I could have said, ‘Yes, let’s go together!’ however I did not. Perhaps if you’d have come, we’d both have been lost, and that would be so much worse. At least we’d have been together, unlike how what really happened left me all alone. I should’ve looked as I crossed the road, should’ve taken out my headphones to listen for cars, should’ve… What use is ‘should’ve’ now? What done is done, and what’s done is my life.

I don’t know what happened after that. Well, I know only little bits. I saw the headlights, then I saw nothing at all, but it took a while for me to feel the pain. The poor driver and a neighbour tried to help me. Luckily, they were with me, but luck wasn’t enough to save me.

I held somebody’s hand as I died, and I pretended it was yours. So in a way, you were with me that night, even before you got the phone call, even before you rushed to me too late.

It’s been four days since I last saw you, but I see you now, lying on the bathroom floor, staring blankly at the ceiling. I’ve been thinking about what I’d tell you if we could speak to one another with ease, like we used to take for granted. I’ve waited four days to say this, and here it is:

I’m sorry I ruined us. I should’ve looked both ways like they taught us in primary school. We had plans, we were going to build our life together, we were going to start a family. I am the one robbed of life, but you are the one to suffer, and it hurts to see you hurt.

Build yourself a new life without me, but don’t forget me; I couldn’t bear it if you forgot me. Find someone you love as much as you loved me, and build a life with them, brick by brick, tear by tear, but do not stop. Eventually, you’re going to have to get up off the bathroom floor, so you might as well do it now. Take the dog on a walk, he’s desperate to go – clear your head. I love you.

That’s what I would say if you could hear me, but you can’t – can you?

I was tempted to lie down beside you, but you’ve sat up now. You’re crying, there’s tears slipping down your cheeks and I hope you aren’t ashamed of it, because you shouldn’t be.

You’re standing now, and as you leave the bathroom and grab the dog’s lead, I’ve never loved you more. I never could love you more than this, because I didn’t know how it felt to lose you.

Four days ago we were happy. I hope you find that happiness again. You know, I hate having to say goodbye, but this time I want to – this time I know it means more than I ever knew.

Goodbye, trees and plants and rivers.

Goodbye, sun and rain and snow.

Goodbye, future. Goodbye, past and present.

I loved you. I always loved you, just as I know you loved me.

Goodbye.

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