Chapter Four: Idle Tuesday
"If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them. Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever."
It was a Tuesday when you died.
It never occurred to me that I could lose you. More of an area I never ventured.
If paper could hear it would surely writhe hearing the sounds of agony ripping from my throat.
I walked by our tree yesterday... it was very nostalgic.
You proposed to me there and as I passed tears fell from my eyes.
You would whisper to me about the children we'd have while sitting beneath that tree.
They would have my emerald eyes and your silver hair. We would build our own house.
Build it large and grand so that when our kids ran through it we would be able to hear their laughter
echo through the house.
You always said you'd write me a symphony one that the world would attend, the soundtrack of your love for me.
We swore to laugh at all the mistakes we would make together and take our losses as they came.
We promised to never let laugher die or the love fade from our hearts.
We would never become jaded or hardened by the years but wise and soft.
You insisted I would age gracefully. While you would wrinkle and pale.
Look at that I'm soiling this stationary you bought me last Christmas with my tears.
I always did ruin everything.
You once told me that the real worries of my life were apt to be things that never crossed my worried mind, the kind that would blindside me at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.
Did you know that was the idle Tuesday that I let all my worries go, my heart stopped beating when yours did.