Imperfect

T W E N T Y - S I X - A B I G A L E O T T O M

I barely could stay focused, I could barely stay in a normal state—I was confused, I was drowsy—I couldn't deliver this baby like this.

From far and blurry vision, I could see my husband looking at my worried. I wanted to hug him, but I couldn't—I was restricted and currently under gas that was putting my unconscious body back to sleep.

"We must put her under anesthetic gas ASAP," one of the doctors said, "she is going in and out and want be able to have the baby naturally—we must cut her open..."

I wanted to go to sleep, but I also wanted to stay up, but I couldn't do it—I just couldn't do it.

"Your wife had organ failure," I thought I heard the doctor explain to my husband, "she want be able to make up her mind, so we must ask you... Only one will be able to make it. We can go on with the procedure and have the baby, or we can save your wife's life—which do you prefer, which do you choose to do?"

I laughed as I was going in and out of the conversation. I didn't even know what was really happening. I didn't know if I was dreaming or not. I wanted it to be a dream, but I didn't know for sure if it was a dream.

"Abigale," I heard, "can you hear me?"

Who was calling for my name, I wondered, but I couldn't see anything.

My vision from the lights were gone; I saw fog, nothing but fog.

I could still hear the voice, but I couldn't put the voice to an actual face actually.

"Who is there?" I asked walking around; I WAS WALKING AROUND AS IF I WASN'T IN THE HOSPITAL.

Was I hallucinating? Was this the gas that was doing this to me? I wanted to know, I really wanted to know what was going on.

A slight tap came across my shoulder, I turned around and I couldn't believe who I saw.

This had to be a hallucination. This had to be a dream. In no way this could've been real.

"Is that you, is that really you—am I dreaming?" I asked the questions impatiently, wanting a serious and quick answer.

"It is me," he stated, "and no, you're not dreaming. All of this that you are experiencing is real..."

He said it was real, but it didn't seem like it was actually real.

So in real life, I can actually talk to dead people—it seemed awesome, but why was I talking to dead people?

"I'm about to have the baby," I cried, wiping the tears from my face, crying with joy, "Amara is about to be born at any minute now..."

"I know," he explained to me as he got closer, moving my hair to the back touching my shoulders so gently, "she is going to be a beautiful and intelligent girl—just like you are..."

I felt appreciated. I haven't felt appreciated in a very long time.

His smile sparkled in my eyes like they used to, making me feel okay, making me feel comfortable around him.

"There's things that I've did," I told him, "and I regret them so badly—I just wanted to apologize to you... all the hurt that you've been through is because of me—I caused the pain that you went through and I'm so sorry for that; I'm truly sorry for what I've done to you."

"I know, I saw and witnessed all," he responded to me, hugging me as if he was my protector, "All of the things that you've done behind my back—the harmful things, the heartbreaking things, I forgave you for them. My heart is too big to hold hatred for so long. My love runs faster than hate—there is no hate, there is always love. And my love grows for you every second, despite all the sinful things that you've done behind my back."

He forgave me, he really did forgave me. I thought he wouldn't have did that, but he actually did.

I cried for him, I cried for all of that hurt that I regret doing to him, because I really loved that man TRULY, despite all I've did.

I grabbed him tightly, not wanting to let him go.

"I forgot you," I admitted, "you shouldn't had forgave me."

He looked at me as I continued on crying my problems out to him.

"I ignored the signs that I saw of you. I ignored the special things that you used to do when you were alive. I wanted to be there for those things, but I was influenced to get over you—move on with my life. I wanted to never forget, but I had to in order to move on."

"All is forgiven," he went on as he kissed my forehead which felt like heaven, it felt like joy, it felt like happiness, "don't cry from all the past things—just focus on your 'right now', that's what all matters."

He was always giving me the best advice—that's what I loved about him very much—and I am finally happy to admit that I still do love him.

"I don't want to leave you," I cried, "I don't want you to go."

I didn't want to leave him again; I didn't want to go all through that pain again. I went through it once; I didn't want to go through all of it again for a second time. 

I held onto him tightly, not wanting to let him go.

  I wanted to stay with him forever—I didn't want to leave him, I didn't want him to leave me. I loved him so much to let that happen again.

"Don't worry Abby," he said to me, up-ing my chin as I looked at him in his ocean, blue eyes—which reminded of no regret and no sadness anymore, just happiness, "you don't have to leave—I don't have to leave. We can be together again; just you and me..."

"What about our baby," I looked at him with tears, not wanting to leave her, "what about our baby Amara?"

"Your baby will be fine," he told me, "your baby is going to be taken good care of."

I was so happy; I re-hugged him, missing him, his smile, his body, and his voice so much.

"I always loved you," I told him as I cried on his white shirt that blended in with the white, cloudy fog that surrounded us closely, "I never stopped loving you."

He rubbed my hair as he allowed me to cry on his shoulders, missing his spirit, missing his joy, missing his self...

"My love never died for you," he told me as his chin rested on my hair, "it still remained around you..."

I looked at him, he looked at me—it was like the day when we first met, but we weren't surrounded by fog.

My heart began to slow down, it slowed down slower than before.

"I love you Lawrence Dilly Mullins..." my heart beat got slower and slower as I looked into his eyes deeper.

"I love you Abigale Mena Mullins..." he told me as both his hands touched the cheeks of my face.

The beat of my heart got slower and slower as closer as Lawrence became close to my face—getting ready to lay a kiss upon my lips.

I could hear the beating of my heart go slower than the previous beat—it was like slow motion at that point, that's how nerve-wrecking it was—it was like it was loud speakers surrounding us, but it wasn't.

His lips touched my lips and I heard a spark in my chest—it popped like fire-crackers were going off. It popped like my love never died for him—my love still lived on with him...