Because of you...
The second anniversary of his death was passing with little fanfare as she sat with her book on her couch in her house, determined to think of nothing but the fictional world within. They'd had a simple, quiet dinner, and then she'd tucked her son into bed and kissed him goodnight. That was two hours ago, now.
There had been nothing but reminders of him everywhere and in everything she saw all day long, and right now it was just too much. Too many painful reminders of a life that had been hers, of the joy and the happiness, good times and bad. She just wanted to read her book tonight, and she was clinging to that idea with both hands.
A terrified scream sounded, shaking her from the world of the book, and she stared at the ceiling for a moment before heaving herself from the couch and putting the book aside with a sigh. Of course her son, their son, would have a nightmare tonight.
Flicking the light on in his room after climbing the stairs, she found him sitting up in the bed, stunned and blinking at the walls with wide eyes. "Jimmy?"
"Was it today?"
The question gave her pause and threatened to overwhelm her as she sat down next to him on the bed and drew him into an embrace. For a moment, just one, she didn't want to answer him. Didn't want to take that last agonizing step from one reality that she'd been trying to cling to, that her husband was simply not home and was on shift, to what had been reality since a phone call had shattered their world into a million pieces. She nuzzled the top of his head with her chin, and the admission came out as a barely heard, emotional whisper: "Yes."
She didn't make it back to her book that night.