Author's note: Insert standard 'Don't own 'em so please don't sue me' disclaimer here..I do own the narrator and anyone you haven't heard of. This does deal with character death so consider yourself forewarned. This does take place a little in the future (around 2010 or so), but everything else from now is still the same. Enjoy....
He was gone. He fought so hard, for so long, but it doesn't matter now, not anymore. It took him away from our little boy and me forever.
I look around the house sometimes and it feels like he should be coming through the door any second. His wrestling boots are still by the bedroom door, and is favorite coat still hanging on his hook in the hallway. I haven't had the heart to move anything or put it up and away. It's almost like I'm afraid I'll forget him, or Wyatt won't know who is daddy was. I still smell his cologne and feel his arms around me when I'm laying bed sometimes. I'll wake up and roll over, waiting to see him, thinking this was all just a bad dream and that he was still with me. I wake up alone every time then cry myself back to sleep.
I tried to return to work, but there were just too many memories. I remember the day we met at Titan Towers. I was there for an interview, and he was there for a photo shoot. He walked by me sitting in the chair in the hallway and stopped and smiled at me. My heart was beating in my throat. I couldn't believe that he was stopping to talk to me. He was a wrestler, a superstar, and I was just a lowly television production assistant. He sat there and talked to me until they called me in for my interview, and he was there waiting for me after I got out. Everyone always told us that it was love at first sight. I know it was. He was the most amazing person I had ever met, and I loved him with every bit of my heart and soul, and still do.
We got married only a year after we met that day in the hallway. Our little boy came along ten months later. Then the nightmare began, it came back. The cancer. The thing he thought he had beaten. It came back, and this time it got the best of him.
I felt so powerless, sitting there holding his hand. He was fighting for his life, and all I could do was sit there and hold his hand. In the final months I would take Wyatt to the hospital to go be with his daddy. That was when the cancer would go away, and we would just be a family for a few fleeting seconds. Then the chemotherapy made him so sick that he couldn't hold Wyatt anymore. He cried that day, and once again all I could do was hold his hand, and try to tell him that it was going to be all right. I knew it was getting close to the end though. The doctors told me that the chemo wasn't working the way it should be, and that the cancer was spreading again.
I took him home a couple of days before he died. He didn't want to die in a cold, sterile hospital. He said that he wanted to be at home with his wife and son. His mom and brother came over and stayed with us the last few nights and they were there the morning he just didn't wake up. We had stayed up until four in the morning that night, just talking about things, and I knew in my heart that it was the end. He told me that he had loved me from the first few minuets we had talked that afternoon, and that he'd never stop loving me. I cried and told him that I loved him too, and he put his frail arms around me and gave me one last kiss.
The church we had the funeral at said it was one of the biggest ones they had ever seen. Everyone came out in droves to pay their last respects. Fans lined the street in front of the church with flowers and candles. All his friends and our co-workers had on t-shirts from the memorial show they had in his honor. Everyone was so kind and courteous to me, even though at the moment all I wanted to do was be left alone.
I go out to his grave sometimes and just sit there, talking to the tombstone like it was him. I tell him about things Wyatt has done, or how his brother and mom are doing. The people that help tend to the cemetery probably think I'm crazy. I guess that's what happens when you become a widow at the age of 27.
I run my fingers over the letters of the tombstone to make sure they're really there. To make sure they really say Zachary Gowen, and that my husband was really gone forever, not just out on the road. Someday I'll bring Wyatt out here and show him where his father is, and tell him why he couldn't be with us. All I guess I can do is keep Zach's memory alive in my heart and mind, and just live with the knowledge that he's watching over us and keeping us safe.
Authors note: Hi everybody..I know it's been a while since I've posted anything. I've been trying to write something for a while now, and when I sat up in bed at three o'clock in the morning and pounded out the rough draft for this story I thought that it might be a good one to post once I get it polished off. Just so all of you know, I don't know if this could really happen, I hope to God that it doesn't, but I couldn't find anything and I unfortunately don't have Zach right here to talk to so don't flame me regarding the technicality of that, remember, it is called FICTION. Well, I guess I'll slide back into obscurity now..:) ~Heather~
He was gone. He fought so hard, for so long, but it doesn't matter now, not anymore. It took him away from our little boy and me forever.
I look around the house sometimes and it feels like he should be coming through the door any second. His wrestling boots are still by the bedroom door, and is favorite coat still hanging on his hook in the hallway. I haven't had the heart to move anything or put it up and away. It's almost like I'm afraid I'll forget him, or Wyatt won't know who is daddy was. I still smell his cologne and feel his arms around me when I'm laying bed sometimes. I'll wake up and roll over, waiting to see him, thinking this was all just a bad dream and that he was still with me. I wake up alone every time then cry myself back to sleep.
I tried to return to work, but there were just too many memories. I remember the day we met at Titan Towers. I was there for an interview, and he was there for a photo shoot. He walked by me sitting in the chair in the hallway and stopped and smiled at me. My heart was beating in my throat. I couldn't believe that he was stopping to talk to me. He was a wrestler, a superstar, and I was just a lowly television production assistant. He sat there and talked to me until they called me in for my interview, and he was there waiting for me after I got out. Everyone always told us that it was love at first sight. I know it was. He was the most amazing person I had ever met, and I loved him with every bit of my heart and soul, and still do.
We got married only a year after we met that day in the hallway. Our little boy came along ten months later. Then the nightmare began, it came back. The cancer. The thing he thought he had beaten. It came back, and this time it got the best of him.
I felt so powerless, sitting there holding his hand. He was fighting for his life, and all I could do was sit there and hold his hand. In the final months I would take Wyatt to the hospital to go be with his daddy. That was when the cancer would go away, and we would just be a family for a few fleeting seconds. Then the chemotherapy made him so sick that he couldn't hold Wyatt anymore. He cried that day, and once again all I could do was hold his hand, and try to tell him that it was going to be all right. I knew it was getting close to the end though. The doctors told me that the chemo wasn't working the way it should be, and that the cancer was spreading again.
I took him home a couple of days before he died. He didn't want to die in a cold, sterile hospital. He said that he wanted to be at home with his wife and son. His mom and brother came over and stayed with us the last few nights and they were there the morning he just didn't wake up. We had stayed up until four in the morning that night, just talking about things, and I knew in my heart that it was the end. He told me that he had loved me from the first few minuets we had talked that afternoon, and that he'd never stop loving me. I cried and told him that I loved him too, and he put his frail arms around me and gave me one last kiss.
The church we had the funeral at said it was one of the biggest ones they had ever seen. Everyone came out in droves to pay their last respects. Fans lined the street in front of the church with flowers and candles. All his friends and our co-workers had on t-shirts from the memorial show they had in his honor. Everyone was so kind and courteous to me, even though at the moment all I wanted to do was be left alone.
I go out to his grave sometimes and just sit there, talking to the tombstone like it was him. I tell him about things Wyatt has done, or how his brother and mom are doing. The people that help tend to the cemetery probably think I'm crazy. I guess that's what happens when you become a widow at the age of 27.
I run my fingers over the letters of the tombstone to make sure they're really there. To make sure they really say Zachary Gowen, and that my husband was really gone forever, not just out on the road. Someday I'll bring Wyatt out here and show him where his father is, and tell him why he couldn't be with us. All I guess I can do is keep Zach's memory alive in my heart and mind, and just live with the knowledge that he's watching over us and keeping us safe.
Authors note: Hi everybody..I know it's been a while since I've posted anything. I've been trying to write something for a while now, and when I sat up in bed at three o'clock in the morning and pounded out the rough draft for this story I thought that it might be a good one to post once I get it polished off. Just so all of you know, I don't know if this could really happen, I hope to God that it doesn't, but I couldn't find anything and I unfortunately don't have Zach right here to talk to so don't flame me regarding the technicality of that, remember, it is called FICTION. Well, I guess I'll slide back into obscurity now..:) ~Heather~