Raindrops Are Tears

I Love You

The life of the the dead is placed in the memory of the living. - Marcus Tullius Cicero

Aaron.

No, it can't be.

A shiver runs up my spine. I slowly start walking out of the room, staring at his name. No, no, no, no, no, repeats in my head. I walk to the bathroom, hearing Dr Rozniak's voice calling my name. I clench the file, my eyes bulging at the sight of name. I lock myself inside one of the cubicles and sit on the closed toilet seat. I bring the file closer to my face and try and read the file. It must be some other Aaron. Maybe there is a photo. I hurriedly flip through the pages until I find a photo.

As I see his face, tears start pouring down my face. I brush my hand over his photo, thinking of how much I would give to hold him just once. How could he do this to me? More tears start streaming down my face as I angrily throw the file on the ground, papers spilling everywhere. I scream and cry, banging the walls of the toilet cubicle. I sink down to my knees, screaming Aaron's name. I see Aaron's file photo amidst the spewed file papers and I take it out and hold it in my trembling hands. I stroke my hand once again over his face, closing my eyes to remember him. My poor baby. He sacrificed his life for my sister. That doesn't mean it would make any difference to me. I would still lose someone I love. I don't know how I'm meant to feel. I'm so confused.

****************

A few days later is Aaron's funeral. This is probably the hardest thing I've got to do. My dead husband. I hold Joelle's hand as I walk inside the hall. Walking up the aisle to his coffin is a piercing pin in my heart with every step. I can't look at his body in that coffin. As I reach the coffin, I see how different he has become. His face is so colourless. I remember his crimson lips, crystal blue eyes, fair and bright cheeks gleaming with happiness. And now all I see is his grey lips, closed eyelids and pale cheeks like a black and white painting. His body, so limp and lifeless. I reach out and hold his fragile hand. I cup his hand in my palms, gently bringing his hand to my heart. You'll always be with me. I lean over his coffin and kiss his lips, tears rolling down my face. I whisper, "My dear husband, I'll never forget you. I love you."

Watching the coffin being lowered into the pit, feels like someone is tearing a part of me slowly and slowly away from me. I never thought this day would come so soon. Why did fate have to do this to me? After all these struggles, he has been the only one to be there for me. Now he's left me all alone with our unborn child. He never even knew. Maybe, if he knew then he wouldn't have done what he did. This is all a dream. Is this really happening? Maybe I'll wake up and everything will go back to normal. I hope.

****************

After Aaron's funeral, I go home. I walk through the front door, one heavy step at a time. I close the door and as I turn around, I feel the empty ambience in the room. I start to remember our memories together. I see Aaron sitting on the couch with me, his arm around me listening to slow romantic songs. I walk to the kitchen, and I see Aaron sneaking up behind me while I'm cooking. He suddenly starts tickling me until we are both on the floor laughing. I walk to the bathroom and see us taking mirror selfies together pulling funny faces and kissing each other with our arms around each other. I then walk to the bedroom and see the first time we made love to each other. I brush my hand over his pillow and then over my stomach thinking that he has given me this child on our first night. That night gave me our child. I bring his pillow to my chest and squeeze it hard. I can still smell his scent. I miss him. At that moment I feel tears rolling down my face and soon I am lying on his side of the bed, sobbing. Through my teary blurred eyes, I can see a photo of us on our wedding day on his side table. I want him back. Bring him back. Come back to me, Aaron.