Author's Note: I am really excited about writing this book. It should be a lot of fun, and I think you will enjoy it if you give it a chance. It will contain moments of intense emotions of all kinds as Kate goes through the stages of grieving, and it will contain a lot of family moments. I know the initial idea of the book is a bit depressing, but it should be a heart-warming story in essence and I hope you all enjoy.
In the light of the newly dawned sun, as Kate's eyes began to float open to the new day, she was graced with the scent of familiarity, the scent of home. With a wisp of a smile approaching her lips, she adjusted her head over my chest and brought her gaze to me, my body still encased by the dream world. In her eyes, I looked absolutely radiant, a cherub in her life, my face illuminated by the fresh breath of the morning's song. She couldn't help herself, she just watched me sleep, and felt her world center in my hallow, dreamed up embrace. As she laid there, watching me, her mind was completely at ease, until the sounds of a wailing infant burst through the serenity and called out to her.
As she lifted herself up, sitting on the bed rather than laying beside me, I adjusted and woke. Kate looked back at my weary features, my fatigue still holding me weak, and she told me briefly, "I got it," brushing my arm with her hand. I caught her fingers as she pulled away, however, and as I brought her back, I laid a gentle kiss on her lips. She smirked into me. To her, I was so perfect. Everything about me was completely astounding. I was everything to her.
Then, reality struck
Kate's body jolted up, her heart racing, her mind reeling. The sounds of an infant's wails in the background forced her into immediate action. She wandered toward our son's bedroom. Alexander was waiting for her expectantly. His tears coated his blotchy cheeks. He pined for his mother. She lifted him, and lulled him back to contentment.
Once he was no longer sobbing, after he had eaten and been changed, she placed him in his swing and wandered toward the dresser in her room. I couldn't be there to watch him, so leaving him in his chair alone was all she could do. The three-month old boy then watched, without comprehending much of anything, as his mother readied herself for work. As she pulled on her necklace that now contained two rings instead of one, she had to pause a moment and watch in the mirror as she despaired for me. I watched her pain. My helplessness pained me.
She truly thought I was coming home. She truly thought I would make it. She thought I would get to meet our son in person, but-... after the dinghy turned up, my body cold and emptied of blood, a gunshot wound having bled me to death, she knew she was never meant to find a happily ever after in romance. It just wasn't meant to be, and that thought was heart-breaking to us both.
I just watched her as she lifted our son to her chest. I watched as she walked out of the door of her apartment, wandering toward her car alone. I watched as she cared for Alexander without anyone there to help. Then, as she turned into the precinct, returning there on a day that tore at her soul, returning on the anniversary of my disappearance, she turned off the car and sat a moment. She thought she could manage. She thought she would survive, but- her heart shattered.
Tears streamed from her eyelids as she looked at the date on her phone. This was supposed to be a day she would delight in. This was supposed to be a day she forever remembered as the day she said, "I do." This was supposed to be a joyous occasion with bliss and adoration. Instead, it was a day wrecked with misery, and she couldn't hold out any longer. Eventually, however, after a half an hour in her car, half of which was spend crying, the other half of which was spend holding her son as he had cried with her, she pulled herself together, and found a way to breathe. Once she could breathe, she went inside and did as she always did. She powered through the day until she went home that night, laid her son to sleep, and then sobbed herself to rest.
Again, she dreamed of me in a far less blissful manner. Then, upon seeing the images she was cursing herself with, I couldn't help but stand in her room and change her dreams back to what they once were. Today, she needed something good. She needed something to hold on to, and this was all I could give her. This, and a gentle kiss to her temple which she could neither feel nor receive again in this life.