Rank: New Next Stepper
Joined: 5/15/2012(UTC)
Posts: 2
Location: 250 Hiamonee Drive, Tallahassee, Florida 32312
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Without Me
By Sarah Osborn
It’s just before dusk. The moon shimmers as the sun sinks down on the low horizon. And we’re just getting started. Flowers. Everywhere. Covering the casket and cascading to the ground from a nearby lily tree. My eyes search the coffin, for any sign that she’s still with me. I can almost feel her warm lips on my cheek, telling me goodbye and then never coming back. I remember her bloody face, me holding her in my arms as she slipped quietly from the world. How I held her for long after until the funeral home came to retrieve the body. My silent tears streaming down her face as I whispered goodbye one last time. Why. I’m the only non-relative here. Her parents, her brother and sister, they’re all staring wistfully at the shifting sand, their black mourning headpieces shadowing their sorrowful eyes from the Sun. And there’s me. The one no one took a liking to until she looked at me for the first time. My heart breaks multiple times from each stabbing memory. I sink to my knees, my fingers churning the soft mud. Tears flow from my eyes and land on my neatly pressed trousers, but I make no effort to wipe them away. My fingers make patterns in the dirt, outlining her face, her eyes, and her hair. She’s alive to me. Not dead, not in that casket. But here. With me. My wishful thinking only brings resurfacing sorrow. Because I can’t see her. Because she's gone. “I’m here with you always." Her voice whispers through the twilight. I whip around and see her, standing behind me. She turns and runs. I scream for her, cry for her in agony, to wash the tears from my stinging face. To see her again. My feet take off, heavy as weights, and I find myself following her. Through the woods, clouds, and space. But she never stops. I reach her and grab her flesh like a lifeline. She turns, and I realize she’s crying too. Without words, I grab her in my arms, and she sobs against my jacket. I lament, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.” Over and over again. She pulls away first and trains her soft blue eyes on me. I feel her heartache as she reaches up and touches my cheek. “I’m sorry too.” Her voice is barely audible. She folds the lapels of my tux over and gives me a weak smile. Then she’s gone. And I’m back, tasting my tears, standing next to her casket where she’ll always lie. Without me.
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