It Took This to Make Me See It

The title says it all.

I lay in bed, the brisk air of an empty house nipping at my exposed shoulders. The TV made noises that didn’t matter to me. I stared into the blankness that was his room and felt as if the empty bed was a deserted island, cutting me off from the rest of civilization.

It was cold.

I lay there. I shivered. I thought of him.

It was nearly 2 a.m. now and I could still here violent waves of sleet hitting the window. I spread my arms out, reaching for a pillow to hold in his absence. It was chilly and the fabric scratched against my naked body.

I looked at my phone. I rolled over. I tried to shake the worry.

The familiar sound of a ticking clock echoed from down an unfamiliar hallway and my heart slowly sank deeper and deeper into my stomach. I didn’t want to be alone anymore, so I gripped the pillow hard and shut my eyes.

Come home. Come home. Come home.

My distress exhausted me to my very soul and I felt myself drift into the blackness that was sleep. It was so late. So early, really.

“….wake up.”

I didn’t startle at the sound. I sat upright in his bed, searching the darkness.

“….Are you there?”

Voices floated down the hallway.

I rubbed my eyes and listened hard. And I heard it. And my heart stopped.

The sentence was broken to me, in my state of exhaustion…but I could make out two words.

“….car wreck..”

And the whole world suddenly went away. The raging winter outside was suddenly quiet. The television suddenly faded, becoming inaudible to my shocked form.

I grabbed my clothes.

I ran outside.

I couldn’t feel the cold.

***

I watched the traffic lights through the back seat of his mother’s car.

I felt my body shake.

Our vehicle slowed to a stop in the middle of a black void of snow and chaos. I peeked through the snowy windshield and felt my legs go numb as a tow truck lifted the demolished remnants of his car.

I just wanted to see him again.

His mother began to cry.

I felt tears sting at my cheeks and I didn’t have the strength to wipe them away.

I wanted to scream, to lash out, and to break down. But I sat there silent, hating God for doing this to me; hating God for letting something like this happen.

I drifted away from the moment.

I imagined his smile. I imagined the way he held my hand, the way he had smiled at me. I felt the warmth of his skin as I rested against his chest and I could hear the steady beating of his heart.

I wanted that now. I wanted that now more than I wanted to take another breath.

The pain seeped into my heart like a steady growing flame…

I just wanted to hold him again. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to watch him drift asleep next to me.

My body shook with sobs as the car began to move again.

And I stared out the window into the white nothingness. The cars passing slowly by, the roads barely visible through the icy wasteland, the people trying to navigate through the intense confusion…all of it meant nothing to me now.

As we drove on and on and on…I thought of him.

And I knew then.

I loved him.

It was the greatest, most painful realization my heart will ever know.

***

The waiting room wasn’t something I was a fan of in the first place.

It smelled terrible.

It made me sad.

Because I knew that he had been here. I knew he had fought here.

I couldn’t get myself to think any further than that.

His mother sat next to me and stared at the wall while I tapped the white tile with my slipper. None of this seemed real. The walls were too white. The lady of the front desk…she was too calm. All of this was wrong. I wanted to get up and yell, scream at everyone who was just sitting there.

Do you not realize?

Do you not understand?...

Before I could overcome my emotions, a nurse burst through the door just behind us.

“You can come see him now.”

My eyes suddenly held no tears.

This was it.

We walked into a room that smelled of bleach and latex. I stared at the floor and tried to urge my legs to keep moving.

One step, then another…

I didn’t want to look at him.

I couldn’t…

I lifted my head, and saw him lying there. My insides melted and my legs turned into rubber. My shoulders shook with sobs and in that moment…there was only him.

He smiled at me.

He waved.

“Hi.”

I covered my mouth to stifle the shriek that struggled to escape my lips and cried.

I cried until I couldn’t cry any more.

“You…” I said, my voice shaking, “Don’t…”

I couldn’t even think of what words to put into a sentence.

Finally, I choked out,

“Don’t. You. Ever.”

He looked confused.

“Do that. Again.”

My heart fluttered as he broke into the same beautiful smile I adored.

I loved him. Damn it, I loved him.

***

The drive home was both joyous and excruciatingly emotional.

I held his hand so tightly I thought his fingers might pop off and continued to cry my eyes out.

He was here.

He was okay.

He was alive.

He sensed my distress and drew tiny hearts on the back of my hand.

“It’s okay,” he whispered.

I squeezed his hand tighter.

I thanked God for bringing him home.

And a part of me wished I could stand on top of a mountain and scream at everyone down below,

“I love you.”

But I didn’t have a mountain. And I was too tired to yell.

So I held his hand.

And I didn’t let go.

And I never, never stopped loving him. 

Author's Note

This was something I wrote late at night on one of my Death Cab and ramen noodle binges. It's not perfect, but no writing is. Please, tell me what you think!