What Happens When You Die?

I want to remember.

But I don’t.

I want to feel him again.

But I can’t

I want to still be sitting with him on the couch, his arm around me, kissing my hair softly, muttering how beautiful I was, as a movie we had long forgotten played in the background.

But I know that’ll never happen again.

I want to be his Frankie.

I want to hear him sing.

I want to feel him near me.

I want to hear his voice whispering sweet nothings in my ear.

Why can’t I get what I want?

He was all I ever wanted,

From the moment I met him.

From the moment he died.

From now until forever.

I searched though my closet,

Looking for a box.

A box full of memories.

Memories that hurt to remember, but make me feel somewhat closer to him.

I found it.

I pulled it out of my closet and set it on the floor.

I pulled out two photo albums and three tapes.

I carried them to the living room.

I popped one of the videos into the player.

I sat on the couch, clutching the albums against my chest.

Waiting for it to start.

Gerard’s face flashed upon the screen.

“Frank, turn that damn camera off!”

“No. You can’t make me.”

I saw myself kick Gerard on the screen then set the camera down so it showed both of us.

“That’s it! You’re so getting it now!”

I saw him chase me.

“Getting what? Huh, Gerard? Tell me what I’m getting.”

I saw myself run in circles around him.

“You’re going to get a swift kick in the pants if you don’t stop running around me.”

I saw myself stop.

“Aw, you’re no fun.”

I saw him lean in and kiss me.

“Ok. I guess you’re a little fun.”

I tuned out.

Tears running down my face.

It wasn’t suppose to turn out like this.

I was suppose to be happy.

We were suppose to be happy.

Forever and ever.

I looked at the pictures.

Each holding a special memory.

Why did you leave me, Gerard?

You said you’d never hurt me.

You lied.

I’m not the liar in this.

You are.

I’m not the one at fault.

You are.

But you’re not the one hurting.

I am.

You left me here all alone.

Can you hear me?

Can you feel me?

Can you hear me crying?

Can you feel me dying?

Can you?

I set the albums down.

I close my eyes.

And as I begin to drift away into unconsciousness I pictured your face.

And now all I can do is wonder:

What happens when you die?