I want to scream, yell, cry out. So badly I long for my throat to burn from the force of my words escaping it, yet no words will come, only tears. Stinging, salty tracks running down my cheeks, dripping the sad evidence that my heart has been broken as the whipping winds seem to blow straight through me.
This can't be. It didn't. It couldn't.
My mind races, failing to accept, disbelieving the events I know in my soul to be true.
How? Why?
So many other questions I do not know the answers to circle through my head, making it feel as though I may never again know the peace of a world without sadness, a life without pain.
If I could only clutch in my hand the proof, the irrefutable evidence of what my choice had done, I would slice through the words on the page, hoping in turn I could tear into pieces all that they represent.
Of course, nothing tangible exists, only the memory of my decision, my desperate plea, making the pain in my soul echo, like his final words that will forever ring in my ear.
Beautiful. Red. Auburn.
My mother's hair, the only breath of warmth on this cold day, whips against the wind like blazing flames battling the icy storm that rages here.
As I watch her glassy eyes batt away the soft flakes with their lashes, I pray I will not have to endure the torment of watching another tear seep from her eyes.
Softly, tiny flakes fall from the heavens, icing the earth with a frozen blanket that will soon embrace my father.
Small. Delicate. Fragile.
The one I love takes my hand into hers, trying to comfort me.
Holding in my palm the life renewed, her steady pulse reminds me of the heart that will never beat again, and I struggle to understand how fate could be so cruel.
Slipping. Released. Parted.
She pulls free from me, retreating, leaving my hand as empty as my heart. Will I ever be able to touch her without feeling my loss?
Lower. Farther. Deeper.
His broken body falls. Away from my life. Away from my mother's arms. Away from our home that will forever be empty without him.
Down. Dirt. Devastated.
His widow, the love of his life, my mom, looking to me for strength; I feel weak, lost and afraid. I cannot save her from this pain. I cannot do anything but stand frozen in the wind, waiting for time to reverse.
As I hear the wind whistle through the barren trees, I stare into the darkness, knowing he will never again see the sun set on the land that was his pride, his joy, his legacy.
Trying hard to not envision his head resting on the satin pillow within, I feel him fall against me; his eyes closing as he falls, taking his leave before the end of the day.
Eternal rest, for my father's life is complete, yet not completed.
His hope for me yet to be fulfilled.