Monday, December 5, 2011


Image from here
You come to the place beside her, where you used to lie. You see the depression his body made when he got up this morning, the smile he left on her face. You see the bedside table, and that the picture of you and her smiling, the sea breeze blowing her weave in your face, is no longer there. She’s taken the abstract painting you loved and had bought for a small fortune off the living room wall. You wonder what she did with it. You haven’t seen her ring, and the pale patch of skin on her finger has started to blend in with the rest of her hand. You ask yourself why she took it off so soon.

You know she can now turn on the big generator on her own; she did it two nights ago. You should be happy. You used to grumble each time she asked you to go turn it on when you were here. She moans and stretches, his smile still on her face, and you notice she’s wearing the last gift you’d given her: the black negligee. You know that even as the satin caresses her skin it is not you she’s thinking of. She opens her eyes and bounces out of bed, humming that tune, and you know she’s happy.

You tell yourself you’re happy that she’s happy. You're happy that, five years after you passed, she can hum "I’m Alive" again. Happy that she got rid of that painting she’d always hated. That she can smile that way again. That now she can turn on the big generator. That she and the world moved on. Without you.


  1. @Amy: Yes. The world shouldn't (and won't) stop because any one person dies. It has to be that way, but it's kind of sad.

  2. Hmmmm..

    I know what you did!

    You wrote the type i don't like (Sad) and gave it a MEANING i Like!


  3. Touching. If his life was anything worth remembering, I can safely add that she would not forget the intimate details.

  4. @Etinosa: He-he. I didn't warn you on purpose.

    @Jaycee: True. He's been gone five years and she's only recently taken off his ring, so moving on wasn't easy.

  5. wow!!! Never really thought of death from that perspective....tres sad!
    But aluta really does continua

  6. What a bitter-sweet short. Life does indeed move on, but memories never die.