Why I Lost Her

She was beautiful; tall, pale, and tattooed. My favorite ones were the rose on her hip and the Latin saying, Non Timebo Mala (I fear no evil) that was done in script on her shoulder. Her eyes were a silver white like none other that I had ever seen. She had long reddish hair with black highlights that hung around her shoulders. Her lips were the perfect shade of red and oh my god they were so soft to kiss. I cherished her dearly and treated her like a princess... That was, until I lost her.

The beauty's name isn't needed for this story. She was no damsel in distress. She was no princess that was locked in a tower. No, she was no Rose to my Jack. This woman, she was a goddess. She did as she pleased and I allowed her to do what she wanted with my every whim. I supported all her decisions and I didn't think twice about half of them. There was no need for that. She was the one I loved. Why should I question her?

She loved to dance. When we were together, she took classes every Thursday at a local studio. She taught young girls on the weekends and sometimes I'd surprise her at her classes and then take her out to lunch when she was finished. She had the patience of a mother when it came to teaching me her passion. I learned multiple dances because of her and she told me which ones that she wanted us to share on our wedding day. We danced around the wood floor of this old house, but now it lay empty, my eyes just falling upon it and seeing the ghosts of our happier selves gliding across the floor with ease.

I loved it when she talked about starting a family one day. I mean, we were engaged, but we both had our futures always set in the back of our minds. She wanted to restore the house and bring it back to the way it originally was. This was almost a hundred years old and she loved anything that was antique. Both of us talked about the possibility of kids in our future. I wanted a girl, her a boy. She had already picked out the names for both of them; Lynne Jade for a girl and Josef Ryder for a boy. She loved the thought of a patter of footsteps around here and I had to agree with her. Both of us wanted to be better parents than ours ever was. That was all we asked for.

Black roses sat around the house in vases. I glanced around at each and everyone before staring at the picture frame in front of me and sighing. The two of us at the park, my arms wrapped around her waist and both of us smiling up at the camera. I just wanted to go back to that moment when we were both so happy, so in love. It was so long before I lost her...

We had matching tattoos. She had a small lock done on her wrist and I had the key. I know, they were the typical cheesy couple tattoos, but they meant something to us. Originally we were going to get each others names, but we knew the bad luck. It was the rumor that everyone had heard, but we never thought that we'd have the luck that we actually did. I guess if it was anything good, then I wouldn't be talking about how I lost her, would I?

A smile sat on her face, even at the worst of times. She was there to cheer me up always. My sister passed away in a car accident not long after I moved out of the state and when I got the call, I was torn to pieces. My sister was the only family that I had left and when I told my lover about her death, she tried to make the best of it.
She told me, “Look at all the happy memories that the two of you had together. Yes, darling, it's sad that she died, but she wouldn't want you to cry. She'd want you to keep the smile on your face and remember that she'd now looking down at you every day.”
It brought a smile on my lips when she said that and I kissed her gently, thanking her.

She was so humble compared to most people. She kept her cool in any situation and we almost rarely ever fought. I think the only time that actually got into a fight, it ended pretty quickly just because there was a simple misunderstanding between the two of us. She helped out anyone who needed it and I watched her stop so many fights on the busy streets of our city. She just had that touch and it never seized to amaze me. It was beautiful how she could just say a few kind words and anyone would just look at her and smile.

I held the box that originally held our wedding rings in it. It only took me a few minutes to pop the lid of the crimson box and I found mine sitting there. I picked it up and held it between my index finger and thumb and I saw the word “forever” glitter in the gold. We had both of them engraved and we were only weeks away from our planned wedding date before I lost her. Oh, how it upset me dearly. We had everything almost planned out and it just happened so fast. I slipped the ring on my finger and I felt tears come to my eyes as I looked at it.

She hated when I mixed my food together. She thought that it was the most disgusting thing in the world, but she was picky. She always had a hate for her food touching each other and she had to specifically order it when we went out somewhere. I remember on our first date, she scrunched up her nose as I put my fries on my burger.
I asked her, “What's the matter? Is it weird that I do this?”
She shook her head and said, “I just don't like food touching each other. It bothers me,” she said, trying to keep her fries far away from her sandwich. I laughed at her and she stuck her tongue out at me.

She rejected me the first time that I asked her to marry me. We lived about a state apart at the time since I was away at college. We had been dating for well over two years and I had come home for the weekend to see her. I took her out to dinner, a movie, and then a lovely walk around the park before getting down on one knee and popping out the ring that I had bought a few weeks before at a jewelry store that was just outside my apartment.
She straight out told me no and as I stared at her astonished, she let out a giggle and said, “I'll marry you one day, but I won't accept your proposal now. Right now, you're too far away for me to be thinking about a fiance. When you come back home to me, I'll take your ring. For now, I want you to keep it safe for me.”
I never understood what she meant, but that, but it didn't matter. To this day, I still don't know.

I took a sip of the glass of whiskey I had sitting nearby and undid my tie, throwing it on the other side of the room.
I looked at the picture that was in front of me once again and said, “Why did you have to take her away from me? She was too young to go and you know that damn well. Why did you take away the only person I had?” My voice rose as I shouted and looked up at the sky.
See, she didn't leave me like you've probably been thinking this entire time.

I'll never forget the day that I found her. I came home from my job at the local music store and I walked into our house expecting the smell of dinner to be the first scent that greeted me. Instead, I smelled something burning and I ran to the kitchen to find the oven smoking and my love to be nowhere in sight. I got the burning object out of the oven and as I left it smoking on top of the stove, I walked through the house looking for my red haired lady. When I found her, she was sprawled across the floor in our bedroom. She looked as if she had passed out quite a while ago and I did what was my first instinct; I called for help.

The verdict broke my heart. At first, the doctor's couldn't explain what was wrong with her. Originally they blamed it on low blood sugar, but after running a few more tests, they realized that it was much worse than that. They called in more doctors to make sure that it was exactly that and as I paced the room back and forth watching her sleep, I was called out. They told me that she had stage three pancreatic cancer. It had spread outside the pancreas itself to the outer tissues. Surgery was still possible, but it was risky. They gave her a few choices, such as the surgery or she could take chemotherapy. She chose the latter of the two and I couldn't believe what was going on.

The chemo made her so sick. She feared to eat anything and I watched her fall apart slowly. She grew skinnier and skinnier and stared at the mirror all of the time, crying because she didn't think that she was beautiful anymore. When she lost her hair, it only made it worse. I, too, shaved my head for her support, but I watched her begin to crumble slowly. I was the one still trailing behind her though, gluing the pieces back together like a child with macaroni art.

We planned our wedding because she wanted to keep it set to the lovely summer day in July. She was diagnosed almost a year before the date, but she continued to insist on it. I watched her carefully while she picked out bridesmaids and flower girls. She called her best friend to the maid of honor and made appointments to pick out flowers and look at the chapel and everything. This was the dream that she had since she was a little girl and I wasn't about to crush it. She was my darling and I was going to make her as happy as I possibly could.

In June, they told her that she didn't have long to live. They made plans for her to move into a hospice so that she could live out her final days in peace. She didn't want to leave the house, but the doctor insisted that it happened. It would be better if there were more nurses looking out for her instead of the one that visited every so often just to make sure that she was fine. I could see the death slowly claiming her, but I continued to tell her that she was beautiful and hold her close to me as if there wasn't a single care in this entire world.

On July 13th, she laid in a bed hooked up to a couple of machines to check her heart rate and a few other things. The doctors had told me that she could go any day now and I didn't doubt it. She began to pray more and kept a bible right next to her bed so that she could read it when she felt strong enough. That specific day though, she asked me to climb into bed with her and hold her like we used to on cold nights back at home.
She placed a small kiss on my neck and she whispered, “Do me a favor, please, darling.”
I stared at her silver eyes and said, “What is it? I'll do anything.”
“I want you to go get our rings and a pastor. My last wish is for me to be wed before I die. Please. Please...” She whispered her last word and I nodded before climbing out of her bed and kissing her goodbye.

I returned just a few hours later with the crimson box and the man who was supposed to preach at our wedding. Luckily, he wasn't busy and he said that it'd be perfectly fine to marry us. He knew how much it meant to the both of us and due to the fact that my lady was probably days away from dying. I had also called mine and her friends and told them what was going on. Our maid of honor wasn't busy and I called my friend to also stand by as a witness. They were the only two that were able to come at this time, but it didn't matter. I was about to become a married man and that was nothing more than I could ask for.

Nurses stood in the doorway as she and I exchanged our vows. I slipped her little gold ring on her finger, letting it join with the engagement ring that she had been wearing for almost two years now. I leaned down and kissed her lips gently and I heard everyone cheer as I looked at her. She gave me the giddiest smile that I had seen in quite a long time. I held her tightly and I looked around the room as the pastor announced us as the new Mr. and Mrs... Well, like I said, I'm not sharing any names. We were married though and that was her last wish.

She died that night in her sleep. I lay on the couch on the other side of the room and I heard her call out to me gently. I stood up and walked over to her, trying to make out her beautiful face in the dark.
It was only nine in the evening when she whispered to me, “It's only fair that I get to sleep next to my husband, isn't it?”
I knew that it wasn't allowed, but I asked one of the nurses that were on station outside and she nodded her head allowing it happen. I crawled into bed beside my new wife and pulled a soft blanket over the two of us. I wrapped an arm around her waist and she laid one across my chest, holding herself close to me.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“And I love you forever,” I said, kissing her forehead and beginning to sing the lullaby that I wrote for her.

I held her pillow to my chest as I laid in bed. Her scent had faded away from it about a week ago, but it still clung to the house in spots. This bed was lonely without her, but I looked down on the little gold band that sat on my ring finger. She was buried with her's and I had finally decided that it was time to keep mine on.

See, she was no damsel in distress, but she was a warrior princess. She's the bravest person I know and she faced death like a champion. Though, she wasn't accepting of it at first (because everyone has a fear of dying sometime) she eventually accepted what was going to happen. She's the one that I'll love forever and she'll forever be in my mind. Like she told me once, it's better that I keep the smile on my face because she's looking down at me.