TANZA - I DON'T LIKE LOVE ANYMORE
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by Tanza
I Don't Like Love Anymore
As
she became weaker, her breath was much harder to hear. I had never
felt the need to sit and listen to the sound of her breathing before.
Now, it seemed like the most important thing in my life. I needed to
hear her breathing. Every sound she made was precious now. Every
slight movement she made caused me to react by stroking her hand, her
face and her hair. I had often imagined how it would be. I'd often sat
and thought about what I'd do when the time came. Now, it was that
time. I was living the moments I had dreaded. As I held her hand, it
felt heavier than before. She turned her head from one side to another,
as if she was trying to look for something. I was there, right in
front of her, but she was looking round me and into the room. Each time
she caught sight of my face, her eyes locked on to mine for just a few
magical seconds and then away again. As she drifted off into a sleepy
daze, I knew I was losing her. I knew we had just moments left to be
together as two people very much in love.
My mind began to flick
back and forth through my memories as I tried so hard to balance the
time I remembered spending with her with the time we'd spent apart. I
felt cheated as the latter quickly and substantially outweighed the
former. I wanted so badly to go back in time and reclaim all those
pointless days, hours, minutes and seconds we could have shared. I
wanted to fill each of them with happiness, passion and love. I wanted
to give them all back to her right now to make up for wasting them so
flippantly on other people and on myself. I could have given her so
much more instead of denying her so much, but it was too late. How dare
it be too late? How dare it!?
As her breath became weaker, mine
weighed heavier on my chest. As she lessened her grip on my hand, mine
tightened on hers. I found myself staring into her face in the hope I
could absorb every last drop of life and keep it forever as it fought
against me to leave her body. As her pain halved, halved and halved
again, mine doubled, tripled and quadrupled at a raging pace. I wanted
to feel something from her. I needed some sort of reassurance that I
would be okay with out her. I willed for even these very last moments
to go on forever. I didn't want them to end. I would have gladly sat
there, by her side, for the rest of my life if it meant keeping her. As
her beautiful face released her final shallow breath, I inhaled deeply,
trying my very best to keep my lungs full of what I imagined to be the
very last living part of her I would ever experience. It was no good. I
had to exhale and, with that long and lonely breath, I knew I had
finally lost everything. She was gone and, because of that, my life
would always be empty. Her absence from each and every new and fresh
experience would make them boring and unnecessary.
Neither of us
were ready to let go. We were still so in love and so committed. There
can never be any closure for me. Who knows what might have happened in
the future if she hadn't been taken from me so early in our
relationship. Maybe, we would have grown apart as a couple.
Eventually, we may have despised each other and parted after a long and
spiteful divorce. Then, there would have been closure. Then, I would
have just heard of her death from someone else and been able to pass
comment on the event. Look at me, debating as to whether it is better
to have lost her while we were still deeply in love, or whether it would
have been far easier for me if we'd had an awful falling out and ended
it all beforehand. I know I'm only trying to find ways to lessen my
pain and talk myself out of being sad for the rest of my life. The
truth is, I know I will never stop loving her. I loved her right up to
the end and no amount of speculation as to what might have happened in
our future can ever change that.
Now I see why some people make
the decision to remain alone for the rest of their lives. Never again
will I assume that all reclusive old women or men have chosen to live
that way for years out of selfishness or because nobody wants them. I
will not assume their hardened outer shell has developed through
bitterness and spite. I will consider it might be because they are
trying to keep their heart as hidden as possible so it can never be
crushed by grief again. I see things more clearly now. I can imagine
the fear they might feel. A fear that stops them from putting
themselves in a position where they might fall in love so deeply again.
I feel that fear. I'm scared that, if I love again, I can be hurt
again. I don't like love anymore and I don't want anyone to love me. I
couldn't bear the thought they might, one day, lose me and be left as I
have been left. I am empty and alone. Now I know what being alone in a
crowd really means. Yes, I am surrounded by so many friends and I
laugh excessively to show them all that I'm through the worst and
looking forward. Yet, I see and hear nothing except my own heart
telling me I am not. Every packed restaurant is empty. Every crowded
town centre is empty. It doesn't matter where I look, I never see the
one face I would give anything to see again. Her absence burns into me
relentlessly.
I try to convince myself that building a future
with another woman will help me to forget my loss. I have so much love
still to give, but nothing can ever take the place of a love that was so
perfect. Ours was a love that was still fresh and unspoiled and, no
matter how much I try to convince myself I can ever be as happy with
someone else, I know in the depths of my heart and the very core of my
soul that I would want her back in a second if given the chance. No
matter who I allow into my heart and no matter who I have chosen to
marry and spend the rest of my life with, she will always be my wife.
She is my wife.
© Tanza 2011
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