I miss him. I miss him more than anyone could ever know. I lay here now,
alone without my beloved Cory to hold me through the night. As I gazed out
my window at the stars, I wish so badly for him to be in my arms again. But
we all know that wishing for the impossible is useless. When Cory was still
alive, I could have been alone at night but not lonely. He was my reason to
live. And now he's gone. Every night, as I lie alone on my bed, I remember
all the times we've spent together, all the pain we went through, and all
the dreams we shared. Cory may be gone now, but I'll never forget all the
memories of him and me.
Hot tears begin to roll down my old cheeks as I remember the first time we met as if it were yesterday. Of course, we were only a few months old, but when you love someone as much as I loved Cory, you live in the delusion that you've never truly lived your life without them.
We were about nine months old and my mother and Cory's mother were in the park together with us. It was a bright sunny day, and I was still unaware of what was to become of me, but even my young undeveloped mind could sense a wonderful change coming toward me. There we were, small infants, riding in our own separate strollers right next to each other. I remember clearly now how small Cory's head was and how his dark curls dominated his tiny head. Yes, even as a small child I knew there was something special about that boy.
When we got a little older (as in six years old), we became the best of friends. Everyday I'd run around with him in his backyard chasing the butterflies by day and fireflies by night. I remember one night when we were chasing fireflies and how I caught a hundred in my jar and he caught like, one -with a broken bulb. I remember how he whined and complained about having caught only one measly firefly. I also remember how Eric had come outside and taunted, "Cory loves Topanga!" I remember his whiney response, "No I don't! I hate her!" He finally told me that that was when he found out that he loved me. That was when we were fourteen.
I was so afraid of loving him at that age. Now, as an old woman, I think about how silly it was for me to so afraid of being in love with someone that I cared so much about. I guess at fourteen, it was normal for me to think this way. Fear: it was the one thing that drove us apart one night and brought us together the next night. That was when I found out that I loved him.
I remember how we broke up so many times and how we always missed each other. Even as I stood next to him in the school hallway, I missed him, for the worse possible way to miss someone is to have them standing right next to you and yet you know that you can't have them. I was scared, lonely, and alone. I knew Cory was always the one I could turn to when my world seemed to turn upside down. I knew he'd always love me no matter what. Every time we broke up, we'd always trust that love would find a way to bring us back together. Love never disappointed us.
So maybe love alone can't bring Cory back to me now, but as I lie awake in this musty bed, looking over my shoulder, I imagine that I can see Cory's ghostly image lying next to me. I gaze at the stars, which are shining down on me. I know Cory is out there too, shining down on me and watching over me, just as he has forever. As I feel the cool night breeze wash over my now wrinkled face, I feel Cory's heavenly presence take over me. He will always be here with me, even if I can't see him. He's everywhere: in the stars, the cool autumn wind, in my mind, and my heart. He will live on forever, just like the memories of him and me.
I glance at the heart and brain monitors on the table. Yes, even as I lay here dying on a hospital bed, all I can think about is Cory. My grown children are outside talking with the doctors, terrified as they realize that my time with them here on earth is limited. For some unexplainable reason, I am not afraid to leave. I will certainly miss my children, but I will always be watching over them, as will Cory. I turn my head and gaze at his photograph on the table. I wish…I wish so badly for me to where he is.
Suddenly, my hospital room is silent. I turn my frail neck to stare at my heart and brain monitors. They were slowing down and stopping. I knew I had only seconds to live. I turn my head away and let my eyes wander back to the shining stars and Cory's photograph.
As I continue to gaze at Cory's picture, I imagine that we are young again. I imagine that Cory is reaching out his hand to me, telling me to not be afraid.
I sigh as the vision disappears and I am left here in complete darkness. No, I was wrong. I am not in complete darkness. To the distance, I can see a white light, brighter than anything I've ever seen in my long life.
And suddenly, I am not afraid anymore. I walk towards the light, knowing that it will guide me through the frightening darkness. Wait…now I've realized that light is death. I am not afraid to go. Cory, wait up for me. Soon you'll be in my arms again.
Hot tears begin to roll down my old cheeks as I remember the first time we met as if it were yesterday. Of course, we were only a few months old, but when you love someone as much as I loved Cory, you live in the delusion that you've never truly lived your life without them.
We were about nine months old and my mother and Cory's mother were in the park together with us. It was a bright sunny day, and I was still unaware of what was to become of me, but even my young undeveloped mind could sense a wonderful change coming toward me. There we were, small infants, riding in our own separate strollers right next to each other. I remember clearly now how small Cory's head was and how his dark curls dominated his tiny head. Yes, even as a small child I knew there was something special about that boy.
When we got a little older (as in six years old), we became the best of friends. Everyday I'd run around with him in his backyard chasing the butterflies by day and fireflies by night. I remember one night when we were chasing fireflies and how I caught a hundred in my jar and he caught like, one -with a broken bulb. I remember how he whined and complained about having caught only one measly firefly. I also remember how Eric had come outside and taunted, "Cory loves Topanga!" I remember his whiney response, "No I don't! I hate her!" He finally told me that that was when he found out that he loved me. That was when we were fourteen.
I was so afraid of loving him at that age. Now, as an old woman, I think about how silly it was for me to so afraid of being in love with someone that I cared so much about. I guess at fourteen, it was normal for me to think this way. Fear: it was the one thing that drove us apart one night and brought us together the next night. That was when I found out that I loved him.
I remember how we broke up so many times and how we always missed each other. Even as I stood next to him in the school hallway, I missed him, for the worse possible way to miss someone is to have them standing right next to you and yet you know that you can't have them. I was scared, lonely, and alone. I knew Cory was always the one I could turn to when my world seemed to turn upside down. I knew he'd always love me no matter what. Every time we broke up, we'd always trust that love would find a way to bring us back together. Love never disappointed us.
So maybe love alone can't bring Cory back to me now, but as I lie awake in this musty bed, looking over my shoulder, I imagine that I can see Cory's ghostly image lying next to me. I gaze at the stars, which are shining down on me. I know Cory is out there too, shining down on me and watching over me, just as he has forever. As I feel the cool night breeze wash over my now wrinkled face, I feel Cory's heavenly presence take over me. He will always be here with me, even if I can't see him. He's everywhere: in the stars, the cool autumn wind, in my mind, and my heart. He will live on forever, just like the memories of him and me.
I glance at the heart and brain monitors on the table. Yes, even as I lay here dying on a hospital bed, all I can think about is Cory. My grown children are outside talking with the doctors, terrified as they realize that my time with them here on earth is limited. For some unexplainable reason, I am not afraid to leave. I will certainly miss my children, but I will always be watching over them, as will Cory. I turn my head and gaze at his photograph on the table. I wish…I wish so badly for me to where he is.
Suddenly, my hospital room is silent. I turn my frail neck to stare at my heart and brain monitors. They were slowing down and stopping. I knew I had only seconds to live. I turn my head away and let my eyes wander back to the shining stars and Cory's photograph.
As I continue to gaze at Cory's picture, I imagine that we are young again. I imagine that Cory is reaching out his hand to me, telling me to not be afraid.
I sigh as the vision disappears and I am left here in complete darkness. No, I was wrong. I am not in complete darkness. To the distance, I can see a white light, brighter than anything I've ever seen in my long life.
And suddenly, I am not afraid anymore. I walk towards the light, knowing that it will guide me through the frightening darkness. Wait…now I've realized that light is death. I am not afraid to go. Cory, wait up for me. Soon you'll be in my arms again.