Goodbye, old life.
She hadn't heard his voice for days. He was too tired, too close to letting go. But she wasn't about to miss a single beat of his heart. No matter how many or how few there were left. She sat, vigilant. She watched his breath hitch more than once. And each time it did, she wasn't ready for it. Her hand kept a soft hold on his and she continued to wait. Their children, their grandchildren, had come and gone for the past week. They always checked in on them. Sometimes they would sit with her. Other times, they couldn't bear to stay for more than a brief pleasantry. They only told her to call if she needed anything.
She needed more time. One lifetime wasn't enough. Not for them. They were too young for this. Or perhaps that's only how she felt. The truth was much harsher, less forgiving. She needed so much more time.
Where did the hours go?
She needed more time to love him. To whisper silly jokes. To hold his hand when he couldn't climb the stairs by himself. She needed more time to live with him at her side. Be his wife. She wanted nothing more than to find herself young again, him right there with her. One life wasn't enough. How could it ever be enough? How could any god up there think one life was enough? Her grip tightened, but in truth her translucent skin and frail bones couldn't do much more than pretend to tighten. The strength was gone.
Her purple veins were raised mountain ranges along her pale skin. Brown age spots had come in where perfect complexion had once been the norm. Wrinkles, lines – they all made her skin home. But it still wasn't enough. No matter how old they looked, they'd been young once. They'd been fervently in love. They'd fought together, sang together, made children together. She'd always had him to count on. For so many years now, he'd been hers.
I won't let you go just yet. Even if everything is telling me to.
They'd done so much together. Created governments, broke regimes, fought wars and raised children. They'd never once realized they'd passed so much time together. That so much of their lives had already gone by. Perhaps they had realized it, but chose to ignore their own mortality. Who wouldn't? Who thinks of death when life is so abundant? She needed him to be here. Her very existence had been better because of his.
The thing she missed the most was everything that couldn't be seen, or heard. Each gentle touch. All of the unspoken promises they'd made to each other in small, stolen moments. The smiles, the caresses. The winks and nods. All things that couldn't be accounted for. It wasn't just her husband she was losing. It was her life. Their life together had been grand, and hard and rewarding and beautiful.
It's gonna be a great story some day. But I'm not going to let you go just yet. Even if everything is telling me to.
The door downstairs opened and closed. She could barely hear it. Some sniper. Almost deaf, she'd forgotten what it felt like to be aware. For so long, she'd been happy just hearing her family and nothing else. She smiled at him. Their family was perfect. Their children had grown strong, their grandchildren were safe. The two of them had fought for so much, but for nothing so passionately as their own future.
"Grandma!" the voice rang out as the owner came into view.
Their eldest grandson, and their daughter, walked closer. They were talking, but she could barely hear them. All of her attention was on her husband. If only he could open his eyes and see them again. If he could see once more the proud woman their daughter had become.
Maesi leaned in and kissed her on the forehead gingerly. Their grandson, Malcolm, sat across from her on the other stool. He was all smiles – he had grown so much in these past few years. It seemed like only yesterday he'd been born. But now, a young man, he wasn't so small. He was a stunning reminder of her husband. Strong, black eyes.
"Grandma, you'll never guess what I got to teach today?" he prompted.
She smiled patiently, her eyes on him. Oh, how he looked like Roy when she imagined it ever so slightly.
"I taught my class all about you and grandpa. None of them believed you two were my grandparents – I had to pull out a picture."
Riza nodded proudly. So, their story was already being retold to the new generations. Their trials and tribulations, their defeats and wins. It wasn't someday. It was now. She and Roy were history already. They'd lived so long that they were now the ones who came before. They were the ones who paved the path for this brave new world.
New life surrounds us.
She didn't care for a moment that Maesi had asked a question. All her focus was on her husband. He would've joked about being a warrior. He would've talked about alchemy with their grandson in earlier years. Now, he couldn't even bring forth the strength to open his eyes. He was so tired, all the time. His breath hitched and she begged him...
Not yet...
Maesi didn't ask her question again. Her daughter had enough sense to know she was occupied. Her brain, once able to do so much, had given up long ago. Now, just focusing on her husband was enough to drown out everything else.
She'd always been focused on him. On their first fight. The first time they kissed. They first time she admitted she was in love. The first time she smelled him. The first time they made love. A lifetime of first times, and there was so much more to give him. If he could just open his eyes, she could give him news of his first great-grandchild. If he could just stay along, he could be there for their first grandson's wedding. All the firsts that were still to come, and she would be facing them alone.
Alone. Left alone because this, all this, was so fragile. Life, hope, love...it was all so fragile. But she'd never lost any of it. Not when she had him. But his age had caught up to him. Eight years her senior, she'd always hoped it wouldn't end like this. She'd always hoped they'd be together right until the end. But now...
She looked at her grandson, Malcolm. He was smiling at her. He was patient. He was gentle and kind. He was everything she could hope a young man could be these days.
"Did you know he could sing?" Riza asked.
Malcolm's nostalgic face warmed, "I remember the lullabies."
"Oh, he could sing. We'd sing your mother to sleep when she was a child," Riza's frail hand took her daughter's. Her daughter held her firm, kept her strong, "We'd sing on the battlefield. We'd sing when we were alone. We always sang."
Her breath caught and she felt the overwhelming knowledge that this was it. She would never see his eyes again. She wouldn't ever hear herself called 'my queen' again. This was his final hour. This was where their story would end.
Once again, she would be alone in the world.
"Do you want us to stay, grandma?" Malcolm asked.
She shook her head, "No, sweetheart. You two run along. I know you have to teach again tomorrow."
"We can be here, mom," Maesi said softly.
Riza looked at her darling daughter. How quickly she'd become just like her father. But, no, this was their story. Her's and Roy's. This was how she wanted it.
"Oh, no, dear. I'll be over tonight. Maybe you can make that apple pie we like so much..."
Maesi nodded, her eyes overflowing, "Anything you want."
Malcolm looked between them, "You're not staying the night here?" he asked.
Riza smiled and looked at Roy, "No, sweetheart. I could always tell when he was done fighting."
She leaned closer and kissed her husband on the cheek. Her frail hand held his temples and she smiled at him. If she tried, just tried hard enough, she could feel him. Like she always could before. She could feel his love radiate from him.
Everything is telling me to, my king.
She didn't notice her daughter and her grandson leave. She didn't notice their tears. She didn't even notice the closing of the door.
She just lay her head on his heart and listened to every beat. Every moment of their lives, she could hear in that disappearing heartbeat. Like a distant drum, it faded. She kissed him on his cheek and waited. Her hand around his stayed firm. She wouldn't forget any of it. Not one beat. Not one kiss. Not one smile.
Where did the hours go?
No, one life wasn't enough. But it was all she had. And, for that one life, she had loved. She had felt loved. Their family would go on, and their story would continue. Her husband, her king, her hero, would fall asleep soon and never wake her with a kiss. There would be no more singing. No more smiles and laughs. No more war stories and gun fights. Her husband would be remembered as a great man. A hero. A fighter. He would be honored by his country, by their progeny. But all she could do for him now was let him be at peace. They'd dragged each other out of horrible scrapes and dead ends. But not this one.
"I won't miss a beat," she promised.
She could feel that heart slow. Her husband's breath caught and she watched his chest fall. She dotted one more frail kiss to his gaunt cheek, and she buried her head to his chest and waited. She wouldn't leave, not yet. She would see him through to the very end. She would be there, at his side, until their vows were fulfilled. She waited. Her head lay motionless on his chest, and she waited.
His chest fell. His heart stopped. Her eyes overflowed. Silently, she cried. She let him go. She didn't beg, she didn't plead. She let him go. She let her love float away with him. It was all she could do.
Moments passed. She hadn't missed a beat. The drum had stopped.