Updated: Aug 12, 2019
Through our 8 years of marriage, I knew that a love like ours was never meant to last a lifetime. Our playful banter overshadowed arguments, keeping our love light on its feet. Tony’s words spilled eloquently from his full lips, engulfing me in loving messages of comfort and security. His warm caress while the moon shone through our bedroom window kept our love whimsical and magical. This love, it was too pure for this world. In retrospect, it makes sense why meeting him felt natural; our souls knew one another from past lifetimes.
I am suffering from a terminal illness - heartache. The kind that leaves its dead husband’s side of the room untouched for the 577 days since his last breath to preserve the scent of his cologne. The kind that calls his cellphone number hoping he will pick up, and instead apologizes to the old woman in Arkansas for bothering her.
To mend my heart I visited my spiritual advisor, Viviana. She turned pale upon seeing me. “You don’t have very long Sonia, what have you been doing to yourself?” “Remembering”, I replied, surprised at the goosebumps formulating on my arm. “Go”, Viviana said. “You have 24 hours and they will pass quickly. Make your final arrangements, and come back by 9:00 PM.“
There is a stillness in my heart that knows it will beat calmy once more after my death. They say grief comes in waves, but I’ve been underwater for 577 days without air and am finally close to breaking the seal between water and earth. I never thought I would have the chance to prepare for my death. There was no way to sugarcoat it for my children so I told them I was dying, pointed them to their trust fund, and told them that everything would be alright. The repercussions of Tony’s death still lingers in their lives, their nonchalant response being one of them. I cannot fault them. I kiss them both, bestow the Lord’s blessing on them and say, “Remember that love conquers all. “
With my white lace wedding gown on, I walked back to Viviana’s apartment. At 8:50 PM she scurries in looking like she’s running to save her life, reads my face, and says, “No, I’ve been running to save yours.” She tells me she has the cure for my heartache to help me live on without memory of Tony. She also has a letter Tony wrote before he died. “I cannot give them both to you,” she whispers. “I’ll lose my connectedness if I do, so you must pick one.”
My brain makes a conscious effort to point me towards the pill. It is logical to want to live, see my children grow, and perhaps even find love again. I look at the note and catch a sliver of Tony’s handwriting - the one I told him he could never sign our marriage certificate with. I yearn to listen to his voice in my head once more, and I chose love over life. “I knew you would.” Viviana hands me the letter with tears in her eyes and says “See you later, amiga”. My heart is racing, my eyes skim rapidly, and my heart begins to fill.
At 8:59:59 PM I read:
“Though I hope I am wrong, you will be proof that it is possible to die of a broken heart. See you soon."