It’s been half a year since Clara’s accident the day of our wedding. I’ve made a promise to myself that every year, on May 11th, May 12, May 16 (her funeral), October 21st, and my birthday, I will come here. To Clara’s grave. I stare at the stupid stone above where her body rests. That horrible line between the date she was born and the day she died. That stupid line that was cut short so soon because of some drunk asshole in a black truck. I hate that line because it’s so fucking insignificant. So much happened in that stupid, short line, and it makes it seem so unimportant. But really, the world is just a horrible, gray place because that line exists. Because that line shouldn’t have been drawn.
Forever and Always
October 21, 1994—May 11, 2016
Forever and always was her promise to me. She promised me forever and always. But her promise was broken. I know, it wasn’t her fault. But I still feel like I’ve been betrayed. Like life cheated me. Yes, I still sing and I still have a great life on the outside. But that’s just a façade. On the inside, I just feel…hollow. Empty. For the first month, so many people kept asking me if I was okay. I said I was. But really? I wasn’t. And I don’t think I ever will be. On the inside I just wanted to scream. I still do. I sit beside her gravestone, touching the engraved writing that holds so much more meaning than what meets the eye.
She finally had everything she wanted. We were getting married, she became an actual famous singer…everything was perfect. But Clara was too good for the world. Nothing gold stays, right? We wish that it would, but it never does. We hold onto the stupid fantasy that we have a real shot at getting everything we want, that our lives will be filled with light and happiness and joy. But they aren’t. Clara knew that. She wasn’t ordinary. She was truthful. And even though she was truthful and so much shit happened in her life, she managed to keep her head up and she managed to make the world love her, just by being her. She was perfect. I loved her. No, I still do love her. She’s my love, my rock, my lifeline. As long as I can remember her, I will have something to live for. She gives me purpose. She gives me a reason to go on.
I leave a bouquet of flowers on her grave and walk back to my car, deciding to drive to a place I haven't been to in over six months. When I get there, I hike up to the spot where I gave Clara her promise ring. I sit down against a tree, looking out at the view. It's not the same without Clara. It's...colder. The view's not as pretty. Everything just feels different. Sure, I'm not as depressed all the time as I was for the first five months, but it's times like these, when I'm remembering old moments with Clara, that that hollow feeling of despair just comes creeping back into my heart. I suppose it's always there, but sometimes I can ignore it. Usually, I can't. Because I'm constantly just haunted by memories.
Luckily, no one has brought any of it up in an interview. That might be Simon's doing, and if it is, I'm eternally grateful. I'm just not ready to speak to the public about something this private. Sure, I was mostly open about my relationship with Clara, but this is different. This is letting people see how the real, true Harry feels. And trust me, nobody really wants to know. But I don't have to worry about that right now. Instead, I just sit and let all the memories come rushing back.
Harry hasn't been the same since Clara, but I can tell he's slowly getting better. He doesn't lock himself in his room as much and he's started cooking again--never an omlet, though. That was his thing with Clara, and it always will be. I don't think any of us are fully recovered, but I think we're all doing much better. I wonder if we'll ever fully recover. I doubt it. Clara will always have a place in our hearts.
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