07/23/2019
CW: disease, death
(2/2)
"The crying, the catatonia, the trying to make it work, the terrible paralysis, the shrinking--there's so much shrinking everywhere--and the trying to make it work, the trying, the trying, the little hopeful moments where something might twitch that hasn't moved in days, the little glimmers of joy that feel like pyrotechnics in your heart, the lifting up and the falling back down. The trying again. The trying again and again. And then less trying. The enfeebling. The sounds no lover ought to hear. The speaking for her, the ventriloquy. The preparations. The saying everything that comes to mind. The desperate grasping for certainty, the kissing, the ordering at a restaurant that takes so long, too long, not long enough. The hating yourself for ever doubting, for ever having wanted less than always. The holding a small, frail hand. The smile. God, that smile. The way her mouth would turn up at the corners. The way it stayed like that, never went away, never changed again. The way she left. The way she was.
I'm still working it, in case you were wondering. Sometimes it takes all I have just to keep my head above water. But at least I got to swim. I got to see the sun setting out on the horizon. And I got to smile."
