8/27/09
Into the Unending
I thought about telling him. As we were sitting, holding each other in our arms, waiting for death to come upon us, I thought about it.
I thought about telling how I felt. How…he made me feel. And not just how he had taken care of me during the difficult journey, or how I knew I'd have never gotten far without him, or how I wished I'd listened to him more carefully.
I thought about telling him how I felt when he touched my arm (it was like lightning on my skin and fire in my veins, but it never hurt). I thought about telling him how I felt when he spoke of Rosie so fondly (like a rock on my chest, crushing the air from my lungs, even though I went on breathing). I thought about telling him how I felt when he smiled (as though the sun was coming out, warming my soul).
And then I thought, 'What's the use?' Why should I bring more misery to the end of our lives? Why bare my heart to have it broken and then die, when I could harbor it away for a few more hours and die with a false hope? I almost told myself to let it go, to tell him anyway, but then I thought of how he spoke of Rosie; saying she was the one. The one he would have married. He clearly loved her. So I held my tongue and just held him, crying.
Just as I thought I was surely dead, I was lifted from the rock. I didn't know what it was or why I was flying. I only wondered if this was how death happened. And then, I was awake.
It took a few minutes to be sure I was alive, and then I was smiling, really smiling for the first time in months. Friends came in, one after another, but finally Sam was at the door. We locked eyes and, for just a moment, I thought he might know what I was feeling. He smiled shyly into the room, as though nervous to join, and I smiled back, beckoning him in.
After we were home, I was disappointed in myself for not being brave enough to tell him how I felt. What if he had returned my feelings? But I quickly realized that it was pointless to dwell on. He clearly cared about Rosie, and before long, they were married and having children.
We stayed close friends, though I kept the knowledge of just how deep my feelings went closer. Eventually, I began letting go of it, knowing nothing would come of it, and that my time in the Shire was coming to a close. I wrote down our adventures behind Bilbo's book, and then passed it on to Sam. It broke my heart to see him cry when I told him I was leaving.
I kissed his forehead before I left. To him, it was simply a token of friendship and a goodbye, but for me it was much more than that. It was the closest I would ever get to a proper kiss, and into it, I pressed all my cares, worries, and hopes for him. Then I joined Gandalf and Bilbo on the boat with the Elves, and we drifted off, into the unending.