Saying goodbye

“It will never be the same again, am I right?” he asked, feeling a throbbing pain somewhere where his heart used to be. Before it became numb and he no longer felt alive.

She was radiant in the darkness. The only source of light in that dark, unknown place.

She looked at him with a sad smile and shook her head.

“This time, I came to say goodbye, my love,” she whispered, her voice always as lovely, her gaze always as affectionate.

She seemed to glow from within. She had on the same white dress. The same flowing hair, like a dark river. The same sad smile.

Her eyes were bright. Like two moons —intense and beautiful. He felt as insignificant as a lonely star.

He was sure his eyes were dull and his skin sallow. What did she ever see in him, he used to wonder. And now he’ll never know.

“I don’t want you to go,” he said. Pleaded. He didn’t care if he sounded desperate. He was done pretending a long time ago. But it had still been too late.

She never got to know how he felt about her.

When it really mattered, he had failed.

He tried to take her hand in his, but came up with emptiness. He felt paralyzed.

“You have to let me go,” she said, her eyes unreadable.

He used to be able to read her expressions. He used to be able to tell what she was thinking before she would even voice her thoughts.

Now, she looked peaceful. He guessed he should be grateful she was no longer in pain. The image of her smashing the windshield assailed him. He wanted to curl inside of him to hide away from the images.

“I want to go with you,” he said, knowing his request was unreasonable.

She smiled benevolently, like an adult to a child, when the child asked for something that didn’t exist.

“Your time is not up yet. You need to wake up. Before it’s too late. Before they turn off the life support,” she said, taking a few steps back.

A fear gripped him, an almost agonising panic. He wasn’t ready, he wanted to tell her. He wanted to run after her, but his feet were stuck.

He could only watch as she kept getting further and further away.

“Promise me you’ll live. For me.”

Her smile was heartbreaking as she watched him, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

He wanted to ask her how he could live without her. That life had no meaning without her.

But, most of all, he wanted to say he was sorry. That he shouldn’t have gotten behind the wheel that night. He should have listened to her when she had told him that he was too drunk to drive.

So many regrets. And nothing would ever bring back that night.

Why did he get to live when the accident was his fault? Was it God’s way of punishing him?

He wanted to weep as he watched her become translucent. Full of light.

“I’m so sorry,” he sobbed as he watched her getting smaller.

“You need to forgive yourself,” she said, her voice strangely clear and strong despite the distance.

He opened his mouth to call her name, but a light exploded, blinding him.

“Wake up!” The light ordered him.

He opened his eyes.

“Oh my God, he’s awake! Call the doctor!”

He heard the voices and the noises and closed his eyes. Everything was too loud. Too bright. Too harsh.

He felt his tears slide down his temples, realizing the connection with her was broken. Forever.

“Goodbye,” he whispered.

***

Thank you for reading!

Bahora Saitova