No Tears in Heaven

I used to think that, with time, all memories fade, and begin to blur as each detail becomes harder to remember and each face less sharp than the before. I was wrong, there are some memories that a person can simply never forget and instead of fading like fabric put one times too many through the wash, my recollections become sharper and distinct each time I hug them to myself; a comfort, stress, and aggravation. They say that hind sight is 20:20, well I would say that They are right. Now that that it has past I can fully view, analyze, and make judgment on my own death.

I used to obsess over it, well not the dying itself, but the events leading up to and culminating in my demise. I suppose it was an accident, not that I would ever know how it had been written in the books, as my ability to view the world I never meant to leave is nonexistent.

In this way my life began to follow a vicious cycle. I would wake (not that I honestly have any sense of space and time in heaven), only to glance around anxiously, thinking that for sure today would be the day. I would open my eyes and he would be there. Edward. My angel. Instead I woke to find my bed occupied by only disappointment; and even my depths of loneliness could not fill the void he had left. Instead I would spend my time idly, wrapped in memory, seeing what was not truly there, if there was some hint I had missed that would explain his disappearance.

But the past satisfies nothing, and only leaving me colder in the warmth of heaven than ever before. At first I did not understand; he had promised, and I thought that meant that when I died he would follow me so that we could truly spend eternity together. All lovers lie, and after waiting for what seemed like forever, I realized that he was never coming, because promises easy to make, and lies are easy to swallow.