Life to Live

He sits quietly at her tombstone, slow, silent tears cascading gently down his cheeks.

Why, why, why did I let her die? Why couldn't I run fast enough to save her?

This same thought runs through his head a million times, blending into a monotonous mantra echoing in his mind. Tormenting him like it had been all this past year.

The bell in the tower near the cemetery begins ringing, marking midnight. The witching hour – the moment at which her life had departed, her soul escaped the broken shell of a body.

One year ago.

He raises his head, eyes closed. Remembering the moment, the blaring horn of the truck, the blinding headlights.

The sound of the impact, of steel tearing flesh crunching bones shattering a life.

And suddenly, she is with him.

For a single instant, he feels her arms about him, warm and safe, her lips at his ear, whispering:

“Don't cry, don't cry for me. It was painless. I didn't suffer, I promise. Don't mourn for me; you did all that you could.” The voice becomes fainter. “I am gone, but you still have your life ahead of you. Don't waste it. Just always remember I am watching over you and I love you…”

The feel of her, with him, vanishes. He sits frozen, unmoving for a moment, before letting out a cry of frustration. Was he to have her for but a moment, before losing her again?

A sight flashes before his eyes. The love of his life as he'd never seen her before. A vision she was, in a splendid flowing white dress, soft long hair trailing down and framing her face, her face that was aglow with happiness.

And – most astonishing of all – two blindingly white wings behind her. Huge feathery wings the color of ivory, stunningly beautiful.

He reached his hand out towards her. He wanted to join this vision, to be with her, like that…

“No.” She gently pushed his hand away. “It is not your time yet.”

He wanted to cry. Would she deny him this? Would she deny him this Heaven, this wonderful spectacle which taunted his eyes? What he saw, but could not have.

“You will have this one day.” She smiled at him fondly. “But not yet. You must live out your life as it was meant to be lived.”

“But my life ended when yours did,” he whispered desperately. “My life is meaningless…”

“No, it is not.” She shook her head quietly. “You will join me when it is your time, but not now.”

“Please–” he began. He wanted to plead with her, will you leave me in this miserable existence?

There was a white flash of light, stealing his vision and rendering his eyes momentarily useless.

When his vision cleared, she was gone. Everything was the way it was exactly, the cemetery, the tombstone, the lonely bell tower.

His body was rigid. Had he imagined the whole thing? His eyes traveled over the area around him.

Wait, no, something had changed. The scene had changed, what was it…and it took a moment for his mind to interpret what his eyes were looking at.

Two flawless, white feathers rested in his hands. They were perfect specimens, immaculate examples that exhibited the elegance and grace their mistress had held.

He gazed for a long time at the two identical feathers. Then he slowly stood up, gently laid one feather on the grave, before the tombstone, and with the other feather in hand, he slowly walked away.