He pulled me closer. My arms tingled with his touch. A current shot through me as he held me in his arms. I still fit snugly in his shape. I laid my head on his chest. Caressing my back, he dug his face in my hair. He loved my white mane much more than I did. His longing for my touch made me melt against him. I wanted time to stand still.
The shuffling of feet and din of people brought me back to my surroundings. Embarrassed, I tried to let go off him. But this meant so much more to him than it meant to me. He hesitated. Slowly, sadly, he let go off me. Through my glistening eyes, I could see him trying to pull his emotions together.
I intertwined my wrinkled fingers with his and we walked away to somewhere quieter. But there wasn’t any quiet to be found. Everywhere prying eyes followed us. With each step, our arms brushed. The thirst was maddening and our control weakening. Not a word was said and the bell rung! It was time for me to leave.
He walked me to the end of the room. Beyond that I was on my own. As I tiptoed to land him a peck, he brushed his stubble against my face and whispered in my ears, “I’ll always love you.”
I pulled him away. Running my fingers through his hair, I kissed him on the mouth. I tasted him while I still could. And then I turned my back on him and left.
As the Alzheimer’s struck me walked away from him, I prayed that the next time he came, I still remembered him. And I know he prayed for the same.
She was worried. A month had passed since he’d told her about the death. A month and he was still to write another word. He was magical with words. He made you feel the pain of his characters, the joys and blessings of their lives, the romance of the scenes left you feeling the heat and his disgust made you scream in helpless terror. At the end, he left you craving for more. He’d left her spellbound every time he’d written for her. She waited for him to write again. His words completed him. She’d never met another like him. He matched her passion for words.
But then he lost a loved one and the words went away. He forgot to grieve. He felt direction less. He was numbed by life’s cruelty. Determined, he sat with a pen and pad. The ink flowed, but no words formed. His hand moved but the thoughts blew around like wisps. He clutched at straws but they fell through like sand. He knew she waited. And he tried. Until he couldn’t any longer. He cried. Until he couldn’t any longer. His body became numb, but the pain didn’t.
As she slipped her hand through his, he wanted to tell her that he tried. But she knew. She already knew. And her eyes said she’d wait with him. For as long as it would take.
You knew all along,
How much I loved you,
Yet you feigned ignorance for so long,
Hoping time would make me grow over you.
You were wrong to have turned me away,
Your love which was mine always going strong,
Your heart kept beating and throbbing my way,
Until it was too late and things went wrong.
To this day when I read your words,
The pain in your eyes comes floating across,
They’ve all grown – the trees, the flowers, the birds,
The grief you burdened alone still leaves me at a loss.
Every time I pass by your grave,
The yellow lilies, my favourite I leave,
I put on a front that’s smiling and brave,
Heavy breaths and a broken heart I heave.
In a small corner of my broken heart,
You’ll always have a place to live,
We may be worlds apart,
But you’ve reposed in me all the love I could give.