I Have Loved

I Loved Him

She thought she could go on. Live without him. Continue with her life. 

She was wrong.

Every night, she saw his face. When she looked into the mirror, he would always be there. Wide, lonely eyes staring back at her, beckoning for her to come to him. That sad smile played out upon those light red lips, mocking her in their sweetness. She had tried to run from him. To erase the memories of the times they had shared. It hadn’t worked. Everywhere she looked, there was something to remind her of him. Of his place in her life. 

It had  been to long; she had tried too hard to forget. It was time to let go. 

After all, there was nothing left.

Her world had turned grey. Things she had once found appealing and interesting were dulled and jaded. And she was tired.

Oh she was so very, very tired.

Two weeks later, her little brother would find a note on her nightstand. Only three words. Words only the boy would ever see. He would slip the scrap of paper into his pocket and return to the grieving parents packing his sisters things. He would carry the note as if nothing had happened. It would never leave his pocket. Forever a reminder of her. 

Because he knew. He knew how she had suffered. More than any of them. He had been there. He was with her when he had gone. He remembered what she remembered. Her father and mother, they would never know the true reason. Why she had to find a way to forget. Because that’s what she would have wanted. She would have wanted them to think the best of her, even in death. 

And year after year, day after day, the boy would look at the note, those three words she had left to him and him alone.

I loved him.