Dance

The left side of the bed was still indented where he had laid for the last thirty-one years. I never had the heart to buy a new mattress after five years. His pillows have long lost their smell of him; my bones have become too tired to dust his things as they've become caked with dust, and the moths have long feasted on his jackets as they hang there by the threads. In the hallway, the scars on the floor were a history of him playing with the kids. When I walk through, I have flashbacks to those glorious days, but my memory begins to slip when I can't remember their age or sometimes how many children I had.

Feeling the weight of loneliness pressing down on me like a heavy blanket, I find solace in the echoes of our memories that linger in every corner of our once vibrant home. Yet, these memories have become bittersweet reminders of what once was, a life filled with laughter, love, and companionship. Now, the silence suffocates me, drowning out the echoes of our shared joy and amplifying the emptiness of his absence.

In the living room, his chair has been left untouched since he moved on to the next life. I know he is waiting for me; I have tried coming home to him, but in my dreams, he tells me that it isn't my time to come home. I haven't felt like I've been home since he left. The newspaper he was reading as he fell asleep in his chair for the last time is still folded on the side table. My home is with him, and these four walls have been so quiet and devoid of life.

As I shuffle through the motions of daily life, I cling desperately to the fragments of his presence scattered throughout our home. His favorite chair remains a silent sentinel, a poignant reminder of the void left behind by his departure. Each day feels like an eternity, as I yearn for the warmth of his embrace and the sound of his laughter filling the air. Yet, in the depths of my despair, a glimmer of hope flickers, a faint beacon guiding me through the darkness. For in the quiet moments of solitude, I can almost hear his whispered reassurances, reminding me that love transcends the boundaries of time and space. And though he may be gone from this world, his love endures, a timeless bond that continues to unite us, even in death's embrace.

Sometimes I feel like he's still here. I search for the map to lead me home; no one has come to visit me in a while. Actually, no one has since he left. I am so tired. Every day, I put on our song from our first dance. This is the only thing I have left of him. When I close my eyes, I feel he is holding me while our song plays. When I open my eyes, he disappears.

Thinking about this makes me feel so alone. I turned on the song and stood there. I closed my eyes, and there he is, just like on our wedding night. I felt his hands on me, and we danced until the end of the song. “What's wrong?” he asked, wiping my tears away from my face. “I don't want you to leave when I open my eyes,” I replied, choking on my words. “I am not going anywhere, honey. Welcome home,” my eyes opened slowly, and there he was, but the reality of his absence hit harder than ever. I am home, yet I'm lost without him.