You wouldn\u2019t have wanted me to do this, I\u2019m sure. You were always so optimistic. Even in those final days, you still tried to get me to smile, to laugh. And I did. But who is there to get me to smile now?<\/p>\n
So today\u2026 Today I will do something. If there is a god in heaven\u2014and how can there be otherwise since He sent you to me\u2014I must trust that He is merciful. I must trust that He knows my weaknesses, and that He will forgive me.<\/p>\n
So here I am on our back porch, shotgun on my knee. I\u2019m switching the safety off.<\/p>\n
I remember you as I first met you, with golden hair, sparkling green eyes, and the most radiant smile I had ever seen. I never dared dream that I would be waking to that smile for the next fifty years, but even at first meeting, I knew those eyes would never leave me.<\/p>\n
Ah, those eyes. I remember when we went to Ireland for your friend\u2019s wedding. I had heard it called the Emerald Isle, but all the green of Ireland couldn\u2019t compare to your breathtaking eyes.<\/p>\n
And that hair\u2014spun gold like straw fresh off Rumpelstiltskin\u2019s spinning wheel. It didn\u2019t last much longer than my own unruly mop, but even when your gold turned to silver, you were still as beautiful and radiant as the sun.<\/p>\n
I remember that radiance when I sit at a table suddenly much too large, sleep in a bed much too cold, live in a house much too empty. How can I help but remember, when every corner of every room is filled to overflowing with you? We built this home together\u2014brick by brick, memory by memory. How can I stay in it alone?<\/p>\n
I almost never cook now. I used to love cooking, but then, I always had someone to cook for. Somehow it rarely seems like it\u2019s worth the effort anymore.<\/p>\n
I know what you would say. You would tell me to get up and do something. You would tell me to go for a walk or paint or fish or garden. You would tell me to try a new restaurant or read a book or go see the fall leaves.<\/p>\n
But I\u2019ve tried all those things, and I remain empty inside. No, not just empty, but incomplete. All these years I\u2019ve been part of a \u201cwe.\u201d A beautiful, wonderful \u201cwe.\u201d And I can\u2019t go back to being an \u201cI.\u201d<\/p>\n
So I raise my gun.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
And lower it again. Put the safety back on. Set down the gun. My hands are trembling.<\/p>\n
I rub the wooden armrest of the porch swing, worn by the years, and looking at the empty seat next to me, I can almost see you there, reading. I look out at the yard, covered with leaves ready for the raking, and can almost hear your feet crunching the leaves underfoot. I feel a sharp gust of wind and can almost smell the scent of your apple pie, tantalizingly close to being cool enough to eat carried on the breeze.<\/p>\n
And I know I can\u2019t do it. I can\u2019t leave all this behind.<\/p>\n
There are tears running down my cheeks and I don\u2019t know why. I desperately want to see you again, but not right now, not this way.<\/p>\n
I hope my time comes soon. I miss you terribly. But for now, it\u2019s starting to get dark, and it\u2019s about time I start cooking dinner.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
You wouldn\u2019t have wanted me to do this, I\u2019m sure. You were always so optimistic. Even in those final days, you still tried to get me to smile, to laugh. And I did. But who is there to get me to smile now? So today\u2026 Today I will do something. If there is a god … Continue reading “To My Dear Wife”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[12],"tags":[13],"class_list":["post-37","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","tag-fiction"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.quingcomics.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/37","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.quingcomics.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.quingcomics.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.quingcomics.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.quingcomics.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=37"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/www.quingcomics.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/37\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":38,"href":"http:\/\/www.quingcomics.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/37\/revisions\/38"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.quingcomics.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=37"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.quingcomics.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=37"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.quingcomics.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=37"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}