Stars to Re-Align
My Mom poked her head through the door. The tapping of my keyboard had probably woken her up, after all it was 3 AM. I quickly minimized my window so it appeared I was browsing high heeled, malicious looking shoes . "Are you OK sweetie?" she asked worriedly, "Yeah, just shopping." I lied. She disappeared back to her bedroom, where dad was probably still snoring.
What was I doing, at 3AM ,that I didn't want my Mom to know about you ask? Trying to do something, important, to me and to him. When he- died, I was sad and lost and I cried. I guess that was about, three weeks ago. But can you believe how easy it is to pretend to smile? I mean have cancer, I can smile just about through anything. Anyway, so my Mom thinks I'm over it and Dad just goes along with it. But when you love someone, like I loved, him- you don't ever really get over it, not really, not ever. There are the good days, which come and go; and then there are the reminders, a man smoking a cigarette or a bad driver, which make you feel pain and sorrow and -guilt, for even beginning to forget them.
One day, I was at the mall, and it was a good day, I was with Matt and Caitlin. They were trying to make me laugh and were smiling these big happy smiles, thinking I couldn't see their worry. And we were walking along, when I caught a glimpse of a newspaper. The New-York Times. And I remembered something he said. So I went home, excusing myself once again an the basis of pain and fatigue and just being me, and I started to think, and then write- to the New-York times.
That's what I am doing now. I'm telling whoever will read it, the story of he and I. The greatest love story ever. And pleading them to put his obituary in their newspaper because that's what he wanted. I guess they will, Cancer Perks and all.
He did not, help the world, or really hurt it, for his actions canceled each other out. But he helped me. I won't say his name, it will only add to the almost bearable pain I already know. I will say this though, I am trying to re-align the stars, in which there are countless faults. Staring with the depth of my heart, reaching out into the furthest corners of the universe. All for a dead man with one leg.
