Seniors

I don't remember the last words I said to him.

At that moment it was the only thing that ran through my mind. I don't remember. After everything, right now I don't remember. I could blame old age, as I have for everything else. But in the end doesn't matter because right now, in this moment I can't remember.

The audacity of it, the sheer laugh of fate, makes me want to laugh. But I know better. It would be so so wrong to laugh, to even smile in this place. Yet I can still imagine him smiling and laughing, saying we only have one life and we should use it to laugh as much as possible. He'd manage to make everyone here laugh, even the most grim faces would crack a smile. Me? I can't even stop my own awkwardness from spreading to all those around me, creating long drawn out silences.

That thought kept coming back. I don't remember. I don't fucking remember. I should. Oh god, I should. I need to. I can't not remember. But my mind fails me. I run through it again. I need to remember. I can't let it go.

Instead I manage to remember the taste of the drink I had that night so many years ago. It was sweet with just the right kick. More specifically, I remember the taste of his lips, tasting so similar to the drink but so much better. They were better than any drink, more addictive than any alcohol I'd ever consumed and I knew I'd never taste anything quite as good.

I remember his eyes, looking at me as he played his guitar in front of me for the first time. He was so nervous, saying I was probably better, that he wasn't nearly as good as people said. I remember the sounds of Blink 182's "I Miss You". My mouth dropped open. He was more amazing than I'd ever imagined. He managed to put all his energy, all his soul into the guitar, creating something so amazing. I couldn't stop myself, singing the first few words quietly before singing my best, making my voice as soft as could be. His smile made me happy, that amazed look.

I remember the way the lake reflected the sunset as we sat on the sand, and I knew I loved him. I looked into his eyes, and said simply "I love you." In movies and books they make those words so easy, as if they mean absolutely nothing, just affection. Nothing could describe the power of those words, the surge of energy in those 3 small simple words. I loved him. I love him. More than anything, more than I could ever say. He looked at me and a smile crept up as he said "I love you too." I felt as if I was floating, free from everything, only knowing that he loved me, he loved me.

I remembered him proposing, a smile on his face as he said he knew I was the person he wanted to spend his entire life with. I immediately said yes, not thinking twice. I knew he was the person I'd want to be with forever.

I remember the way the vase looked, broken on the floor, after our fight. I yelled and he simply spoke quietly, trying to make me understand. I remember the door slamming, the expression on his face. I cried myself to sleep that night, furious at myself for ruining it between us.

But the next morning he came back. I remember apologizing, promising, begging him not to leave me. I remember him reasoning, solving everything with his mind, finding solutions. Making up and starting again, solving our problems together felt so right.

I remember how I held the warm blanket, covering our adopted son, not believing we would raise him, experience his first steps and first word and first friend and first grade and first lie and first everything. We would be parents. We would raise a child together.

And yet, 10 years later I remember the doctor's sad expression as he told us the phantom pains Ryden, the name we finally picked, weren't "nothing" but the first steps of cancer. I remember the doctor saying we were lucky to find it so early, that there was hope. Ryden's brave determined face as he promised he would fight, saying he could beat cancer. I remember hugging him as his hair fell out, as his became thinner and thinner.

Etched in my memory forever would be the sounds of the beeps in the hospital slowing down until nothing. Ryden was gone. I remember hugging him, feeling so heart broken, so lost. Life would have lost its point but he was there. With his smile and never ending strength he was there for me.

I remember the way the sun rose, painting shadows on the sofa, the night after, when we sat together on the floor of the living room, holding each other crying, not believing Ryden was gone. But life goes on. Ryden would always be part of us, a hole that would never heal. I would have simply shut down and let grief take me, but he was there, giving each day meaning.

I remember his shouting on his 69th birthday, saying that this should be the best year of his life. I kissed him as we fell back on our bed, holding him closer and closer, loving him wholly and truly.

And I remember his smile this morning as he left the house, wide and happy. But I can't remember the words he said. After everything I can't remember what words left his lips.

"Sir?" A lady came up to me. "I regret to tell you this, but he's gone. There was nothing we could do."

And in that moment I remembered. I fell down, my knees failing.

"I love you. I'll see you later."