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For the last fifty nine days, every day has been the same for me. I didn’t expect day sixty to be any different.
I wake up, look in the mirror and tell myself today is the day. Today will be the day that I can do it. I am stronger than I think I am. I can do this.
I then walk out of my room and go exactly five feet three inches and stop in front of the room. I reach for the door knob then pull my hand away. I stare at the door for what seems like hours but it is only minutes, maybe seconds. I then take a deep breath and walk away.
image credit: The Sabbath Recorder
I go about my day like a robot. Doing without thinking. Lost in my guilt. Lost in the what if’s. Everyone looks at me the same. Fake smiles. I fake smile back. They say everything will be alright. I want to scream at them that it will not be, but I don’t. I only want to hit something. I have so much anger and hurt and it’s all my fault. They say it is not but I know it is.
I go home. I hesitate as I turn the key to unlock the door. Do I really want to go back inside? I don’t know what else to do so I turn the key.
I make dinner and set two plates out of habit. I know you won’t be joining me. I eat in silence.
I go upstairs to go to bed and I once again stop at the door. I reach for the door knob and pull my hand away. I take a deep breath and walk away. I go into my room and yell at myself in the mirror. Why are you so weak? Why can’t you turn the knob?
God help me! Where are you? I need you. She needs you. Why won’t you make her wake up? I need a miracle.
I fall asleep listening to the hissing and popping of the machines that keep her alive.
I have the same nightmare, but it’s not a nightmare. It’s a reality. You fell down the stairs and couldn’t move. Ten minutes. That’s what the doctor said. If I could’ve gotten you to the hospital ten minutes earlier you would’ve made it. If I would’ve came straight home that night you would’ve been okay.
But I didn’t.
We were fighting and I took the long way home to clear my head.
I wish I would’ve driven straight home. That’s why it’s all my fault. That’s why I can’t go in there. I know I did that to you.
I wake with a startle. The house is silent.
It shouldn’t be silent!
The machines have stopped. I jump out of bed and run to the door. I reach my hand out and pull it away. Maybe it’s for the best.
She needs you.
I look around. No one is there.
She needs you. She is still alive. Appreciate the living while they are here. One day she will be gone and you won’t be able to tell her anything.
Tears pour out of my eyes and before I know it my hand turns the door knob. I slowly walk to your bed and reach out to hold your hand. I am so sorry. Please wake up, please. I love you. I need you. I am sorry I haven’t been here. I will always be there for you from now. Wake up! Please God, wake her up.
I feel her hand squeeze mine. It had to be my imagination. I look up through the tears and see her eyes open.
I didn’t expect day sixty to be any different. God knew it would be.
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