Sometimes, on the rare occasion that I am distracted from the skinless
excruciation of my day to day existence; on the ever so rare occasion
that Wil' slips from the bleak foreground of my thoughts, a child's
laughter will bubble through the air like audible sunshine, carrying a
seconds mindless joy and in its wake, a cascade of fleeting memories.
A strobe of images:
Wil', radiant, tanned and beaming; fly rod in one hand, a fat
glistening rainbow trout in the other.
Wil', almost transparent against the white of the hospital
sheets. Bald and bruised; too weak to move.
Wil', tiny and lifeless - engulfed by the satin lining of the
small white box, never to laugh again.
And my heart, which for that brief moment had expanded like a
clown's balloon on a tank full of helium, contracted in my chest with
indescribable pain, shrinking into a putrid, fibrillating ball of
necrosis. Bile seared my throat and I steadied myself against the wall
of a nearby building.
Hot tears blurred my vision and I blinked them back furiously. A
passerby glanced at me, only to scurry nervously on.
Oh the ache! The sick, visceral ache! God, how I loved him. And
love, like grief, is all consuming. He was my sun, my moon; my entire
life. But now he is gone and I'm plunged into darkness, treading water
in a frigid, tideless ocean.
I am unsure how much longer I can keep my head above the surface.
I am unsure that I even want to.
First published: February, 2007
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