Fade
I could have gone the easy way, but I waited. I'm glad I did.
I'm dying.
These breaths I breathe are my last, the movements of my lungs suddenly miraculous. How had I never noticed before? The tiny miracles my body does every moment of life. The tiny movements it will soon cease to make, taking me from life into death.
I was asked that once, years ago. "How does every living thing die?" It's strange to me now, that none of us had thought of the correct answer. "Their heart stops beating."
For many reasons, of course, but essentially that's it. Your heart, an organ referred to often throughout your life but not really thought on day-to-day, stops.
Like mine will stop.
The sun is warm and I feel it, caressing me softly, just as the breeze sweeps in to cool its touch. So in harmony. A large living beast, this whole world is, so many forces and yet it sustains.
But I will not.
I look to the man watching me. He is sad to see me go and I am sad to leave him. In that moment, I am scared for him. I had always said, he had to go first, because what would he do without me? But the world decided against my plan.
"Is there anything—"
I reach for his hand and squeeze. There is nothing he can do, not now, and he knows it. He just doesn't know what else to say.
Fear spikes through me, and then it calms. Maybe it will spike again. But the moment, I feel at peace. It was like when I was in school, handing in a final exam. The moment I placed the parchment on the teacher's desk, a spasm of panic, a feeling laced with doubt and fear, would strike. But once I lifted my hand and walked out the door, it would soothe. Because it was out of my control then, wasn't it? I had done my best, answered as well as I could, and now there was nothing left but the wait for the grade.
Was life like this? A test? A long, arduous wait for the grade?
It was possible. And if it was, I had handed in my parchment long before this moment. This was the moment the owl was soaring through the open window; the moment my grade would stand undeniably, unchangeably, in the black ink already soaked into the parchment. Apprehension would surge, sure. But fear? It felt pointless. What could I do to change the grade now?
I had said my goodbyes. To all those who mattered most in life, and to some who didn't matter quite as much as they perhaps should have. But it was done. Now, I wait.
He clings to my hand and I know he fears me passing. Passing? What a stupid word for it. Dying. I'm dying. I hope people say that about me when I'm gone. She's dead. Not she's gone on, not she's passed, not even she's no longer with us. Just the truth, plain and simple. She died.
I hope I miss him. I'm not sure what's next, not sure where I'll be. Not here, that's all I know. Not with him. Will I feel something like sunlight where I'm going? Will there be a breeze? Are all the things I love most about living going to cease to be a reality for me? The warmth of sunlight, the thrill of his touch, the love in my children's laughter, the smell of grass, the ocean stinging my bare legs, trees whispering in the wind. Or will the place I go next only poorly mimic this existence? Will there be reminders of what I had lost? Will I know him? Will I remember?
How cruel it would be, if I lost him. Not just physically, but in my thoughts as well. He always dominated my thoughts here.
He locks eyes with me, blue on brown, and I beg. Please don't let me lose him, too. The rest I could bear. It's supposed to be like that. I knew all along that sunlight and oceans and children and laughter were mine only temporarily. But him? He is supposed to be mine forever.
My last request. I hope it's granted.
I sigh. It's getting closer now. How I know, I'm unsure. But there it is. It's coming. His head lowers towards mine and he takes one of my last breaths in a kiss. I give it freely.
He rests his forehead against my own, dominating half my vision and leaving the rest for the clouds and the trees and the sky. It should be like that. He was always more than half of my existence.
"I'm here," he whispers.
"I know," I respond. And it's enough.
The breeze fades. The sunlight fades. The sky and the clouds and the feel of soft grass all fade. But he is there, his breath mingling with mine.
In and out. In and out.
I'm no longer warm, but neither am I cold.
In.
He's still there. He's still with me.
Out.
A/N: This drabble (Though it's not really a drabble, is it? Far too long. More like a story without a conflict, really...) has been sitting in my computer with no where to go for a long, long time. I thought I might find a context to use it in, as I've always really liked it. But, nothing so far... Figured I'd put it up, hopefully someone would enjoy. :)
For anyone interested, I've recently published my first original work! My novel, Break Free the Night, is now available for sale in both paperback and eBook format. You can find additional details on both my profile page and my official website (www. emfitch .com). As of now, I'm announcing the release solely on this site and offering, for a limited time, a 10% discount on the paperback edition to my fanfiction friends. Without the support and encouragement of the members of this community, I would have never even considered writing an original piece. Thank you all for your reviews over the years, they continue to mean so much to me.
Cheers!
Ozma333/E.M. Fitch