He stared down, teary-eyed, into the casket, thinking the same thing he thought when he had first seen her across that crowded dance floor. There she is. Except she wasn't there anymore. Not really.
It all seemed like a sick, cosmic joke to him that he should wait so long to find her only to lose her after what felt like such a short period of time. And of course, he was grateful for each and every moment spent with her in his life. He only wished there had been more. Ted thought that he would gladly trade in years of his own life to extend hers by even a day or two, because a day with her was worth far more than years and years without her.
And as much as he wanted that extra time with her, more than that, he wanted that extra time for her. That was the difference, he realized, between her and others he had supposedly loved in the past. He cared about her happiness more than his own. And she deserved so much more than she got, despite having lived a good life. She deserved to grow old and she deserved to sit alongside him and Lily and Marshall on that front porch. She deserved to be a part of that eased, resolved world you got to be a part of when you're old.
He pulled himself away from her body, unable to say goodbye just yet, and unable to look at her for another second without breaking down. There was a gnawing emptiness somewhere deep inside him that tugged at his already-loosening seams, like there was suddenly this missing piece in the world where she had once been. He sat down slowly, uneasy from the thoughts.
The realization that she had once felt this way made it all the more agonizing. He had always been supportive with regards to the nostalgia and pain she felt over Max's death, but he had never truly understood. Not until now. In understanding, he wanted nothing more than to hold her and comfort her, thinking that no one should ever have to feel this way. But it was too late.
It wasn't so long ago that Ted had finally finished telling his kids the story of how he met their mother. After the hours and hours of winding through the most unnecessary details of the story, he was finally forced to reach the ending.
"And that kids, is the true story…" Ted paused, his desire for a drink suddenly all too present. The moment was here, and he couldn't put it off any longer. He had to come back to reality. "of how I met your mother."
His kids let out relieved sighs, "Finally" "Yeah, dad, were all those stories really all that relavent?"
Now it was his turn to sigh. He knew the answer. Of course they weren't. Luke and Penny hopped off the couch, and made it half way to the kitchen before he stopped them. "What now?" his daughter asked, clearly annoyed.
"There's one more story I have to tell you guys." He took a deep yet shaky breath. "Last Sunday, your mom and I had to go to the hospital. Your mother… she's sick. She's very sick." He had spoken slowly, trying to make his tone consoling so as to ease the harsh news, and partially because he could barely manage to say the words at all. He had avoided them for so long, and yet the whole thing still felt so fresh. All of a sudden, everything he had been trying to distract himself from with the countless, comical stories he had accumulated over the years came rushing back to him. He was pulled back to reality and it stung.
The memory, along with so many others, brought tears to his eyes. She had once told him that she wished he wouldn't become a man who lived in his memories. But I'd rather live in that world than a world without you. He thought, flooded with regret that he hadn't said it out loud, while she was still around to hear him.