To Lose a WifeAs she lay before me, finally back at home in her bed, her body withering from the disease, she weakly motioned to a compact disk on her nightstand. Barely able to speak, she whispered 'Play it for me.' I picked up the disk and put it in the DVD player. She appeared on the screen, as she was before, when she was well. I looked down to her on the bed with a puzzling look and she moved her head, silently telling me to look back to the screen. Sound poured from the television.
"Hello, honey. I know I won't be here forever. I made this... for the end." The woman on the screen began to well up with tears. "There is an ancient legend that the Mute Swan lives its entire life in silence until the moment just before death, when it sings one beautiful song. If you're watching this then.. well..." She struggled to fight the tears back. "This is my swan song." She began to sing an Italian love song. Our song. Neither of us ever knew the name, nor looked it up because it was much more romantic to s
Her... What sweet solace I find in her eyes. They are radiant pools of emotion by which I may gauge my own. I am deeply troubled by the thought that one day I may never see her again; she will cease to exist. Though in the end we are all finite, each and every one.
I try not to think about it, often to no avail. I cannot move past the thought that each gaze into her eyes or each whiff of her sickly sweet hair or each loving embrace may be the last. That each "goodbye" may be forever; that each "I hate you" may be forever.
All too soon she will be gone, lost to the crashing ocean of time. There will be no more hugs. There will be no more kisses. There will no longer be her compassionate voice comforting me in my times of sorrow. All that is left is her absense. And it will drive me mad; I will go insane!
Or am I mad already, and she was never there?