Two months later….
Death changes everything.
Eric was and will always be the love of my life: I will not love another man as I have loved him, I'm sure. How could I? He is gone and I am here ... I lost him and now nothing can give him back to me. I just think about it all the time. I think and think about it, as if that could change things. [1]
Two months have passed and that sense of guilt still devours me, the constant feeling of error for a stolen kiss does not allow me to forget, to move on. Everything is wrong, yet I keep looking for a reason.
We haven't seen or talked since that evening, it seems like it happened a lifetime ago. Now, it is as if that invisible thread that bound us had broken and we were adrift.
I know he returned to the base in Egypt, the same base where Eric was killed; what is good there will always remain in the shadow of what happened, it will always remain the place where he died. And maybe that's exactly why he came back, to feel closer to him, to allay his sense of guilt. Perhaps, we both needed this distance.
Only this morning I realized that in recent months the house has remained the same: no change, no movement. Today, however, I decided to fix the last things before the little girl arrives.
Yes, because I entered the ninth month: this should have been the most beautiful moment for us, we should have held her in our arms as soon as she came into the world and made her feel our love; instead, she will have only my arms to shield her from the obstacles that her life will put in front of her.
I miss her smile, her strong arms making me feel safe and her way of humoring me.
I miss seeing him go through the front door, every time with something in his hand: a gift for the little one, a rose or simply with a strawberry ice cream.
Eric is gone and with him a part of me too. However, this is not the time for fragile hearts: one step at a time, I must move forward.
Taken by melancholy I go up to the attic, even if it is now only a room used as a closet. I turn on the light and the scent of old comes over me, I close my eyes and let go of the memories, even if they are painful. As soon as I recover a little, I notice a box that I had never seen before, I take it and peek inside.
Suddenly, the world stops again.
I take a deep breath and go back to look inside the box, I start rummaging through T-shirts and various souvenirs from our travels together. Everything in front of me speaks to me of him, of us.
I grab his sweatshirt and put it on: it's a bit large for me, but it's the only way I can feel his scent again, that perfume capable of giving me an infinite feeling of well-being.
Among the various things I find, I focus on one photo in particular that takes me back in time.
"Mrs Lopez?" the hospital gynecologist asks and we, a little embarrassed, enter her office.
We were anxious: we had changed doctors and were about to see our daughter; despite all the previous ultrasounds, that moment always scared us.
What if we weren't able to take care of her? What if we weren't good parents?
I lie down on the bed, Eric joins me but he is too nervous and he starts pacing back and forth making me nervous too.
"Come here, Mr. Lopez," the doctor calls politely, in a calm voice.
«He Take the liquid and put it on your stomach, then he will gently pass the probe over. Maybe… so we will be able to calm her down and not make her agitated, "she tells him, explaining in detail the gestures she will have to make.
"I'm a soldier, not a gynecologist," he replies, a little offended, since in the last few minutes she had behaved as if he were the one who was pregnant, lying on the bed.
The doctor's gaze, albeit sweet, did not admit any replies, so Eric approached me, took the liquid from her hands and spread it on the lower part of her belly; he took the probe and with trembling hands made delicate and circular movements on the belly and at the same time shook my hand with the other free.
Suddenly he heard a loud "boom boom boom" and all that happened after was tears of joy. The gynecologist started talking, but we couldn't hear anything but her heartbeat.
Eric wiped the liquid on my belly, helped me get dressed and immediately kissed me softly. A kiss that had the flavor of a thousand promises and of a future together in which the word "love" would be like an evergreen tree, strong in resisting storms and capable of giving shelter to that little angel we had brought into the world.
I return to reality shaken by the chills that run down my spine, leaving in me that now so familiar feeling of melancholy and pain mixed with something new, which I could not yet give a name to but which seemed to shed light in my tunnel of suffering.
«It was all so perfect ...» I admit in a whisper, touching the photo and the words come out in sobs.
"The memory is now like
A piano without a voice
The more he plays, the more he doesn't hear his notes.
Suddenly my thoughts fell silent
Fly towards that image.
No words were needed
I still remember the emotion. "
"Maybe one day we will meet again and we will have our chance to live happily what was taken away from us," I say to myself, letting that sentence wander in that small closed room.
At the bottom of the box, something catches my attention, I pick it up and remain speechless.
"To my beautiful wife"
I read aloud, touching her perfect handwriting with a trembling hand, out of the white envelope I hold in my hands.
Uncertain what to do, I bring her to my heart and smell the paper that smells of her; finally, still trembling, I decide to open it.
My love,
I'm writing this letter if anything happens to me one day, because I want you to know how much I love you.
I am sitting on our veranda watching the sunrise and I smile because I have already seen something wonderful and perfect in you.
I watch you sleep with your colored cheeks, your rosy lips and your hair scattered on the pillow; I can't help but feel like the luckiest man in the world.
Life has given me everything I wanted: he introduced me to you and it was the best gift.
I never stopped loving you and I never will; all the times we have been apart I have thought of you every day, my life without you has no meaning.
I tried never to take you for granted and every day I looked for a way to win you back as if it were the first time. I enjoy finding a thousand different methods to show my love: because when you love someone, like I love you, it is forever. However, if you are reading these words it means that something has happened to me.
I promised myself to be optimistic and not to think sadly about the future, but I have seen so many horrors that perhaps a part of me has never stopped being pessimistic.
Being a soldier in dangerous areas, where war is always present in the eyes of men, women and children, made me understand that life is the most precious good and must not be wasted; we must live making our dreams come true and be with those we love.
And I think I have even more of my life than I imagined: you became my wife, we lived unforgettable days and I have no regrets; however, I'm afraid that if anything happens to me you will… let go and… I don't want it.
Perhaps there will be no need, I hope it will not be necessary indeed, perhaps when one day we find this letter again we will smile together at my pessimism; but now, I still want to tell you what I think because I know that you, in that case, will need to hear them from me and not from others.
There will be someone who will hold you so tightly that you feel safe, he will ease all the pain in your heart and maybe he will be able to make you love again.
I know what you are thinking, I am trying to make you understand that you will not suffer when I leave, but believe me: even those who abandon you do something good.
My abandonment, if I may call it that, will remind you that you are alive even without me. You will have to lose many hours of sleep, read books on survival, even confide in the vacuum cleaner. You will have to open yourself to others and also suffer a lot; but most importantly, you'll have to start over, love again. And you ... my love, you will love again because you have a big heart.
You have to promise me one thing… you have to promise me you won't give up. NEVER.
You have to give time to time and let your wounds heal. Even when you don't know, I will watch over you, smile at you, hug you and whisper that you can let go, that you can smile again because I will always be there.
I will see someone else loving you, someone who will be able to give you what I could not: but you must allow them to enter your life, to let them love you.
Love and never forget how great our love was; always imagine me next to you because that's where I'll be.
Remember me for what I gave you, for the smiles and emotions you gave me, remember me because that's where I will live: inside you. [2]
I loved you, I love you and I will always love you.
Your Eric.
I read the letter in one breath and now I have nothing left.
The worst sound was hearing that silence that surrounded me, that wave of heat that twisted my heart and at the same time broke my voice as I tried to speak.
I felt overwhelmed with tears, I had to take a long breath between one sob and the next, while I thought about all the things done together, the happy moments and the days when I could never get enough of him.
Everything had been swept away, everything was slipping slowly as if, only now, I had realized the reality: Eric would never come back.
Suddenly, a strong pang reaches my stomach enough to cut my breath, shortly after another stronger and one was getting closer and closer to the other.
I try to recover, but the pain is so strong that I can't and as soon as I feel something coming down on my legs I understand that the long awaited moment has come.
"Our daughter Eric, she's about to… be born," I whisper softly, my eyes shining with joy and sadness at the same time.
I knew with certainty that Peter had returned from Egypt a few days ago and I hoped with all my heart that he would answer me. I, we needed him now.
I don't have time to pick up the phone when I hear him calling in a loud voice from the entrance to the house. I take a short but intense breath and scream with all the breath I have.
I don't know how much time goes by and what exactly happens, but I can tell you that all pregnancy books and prep courses don't help as they should in managing pain or what will happen next.
"You stayed," cost me nothing short of amazed, seeing Peter enter with my daughter in his arms.
"I promised Eric and, as I have told you several times, I will always be there for you, for you," she says immediately after, barely hinting a smile, just before giving me the little girl that she had started screaming.
Having her in her arms and being able to hold her close to me is something ... inexplicable, so wonderful that it seems almost magical. I had thought for a long time about this decision, but then I realized that there was nothing to decide, I already knew that her name had been written.
"The baby's name is Celeste," I say with a smile as a tear falls from her face and I hurry to wipe it away.
The pain was still present, perhaps not as strong as before but it was always there, alive inside me.
I pay attention to the little bundle that had just fallen asleep in my arms and I can't stop looking at her face, so small and sweet.
"She is ... She is beautiful" I exclaim immediately after, stroking her soft face with a finger.
"She looks like you," he says, sitting on the cot next to me, but always keeping a certain distance.
"I thought I couldn't do it. And then, she came and I saw her face, I saw him in her "[1.1] I confess shortly after. I look up and see her eyes expressing what with terror did not have the courage to express mine.
Eric Lopez, our Eric was dead.
He was no longer there but, in some bizarre way, there was something of him in Celeste, just as there would always be something of him in us.
I understand that I will only let it go when I am sure that I am ready to lose myself.
I need him.
Our story had already been written and we could not help but live it, fall in love and then get lost.
There are people from whom we never heal. Their smiles will always make our hearts beat, their laughter will make our legs shake and their every word will remain on the skin. Their gestures are destined to revive in our every single movement, their breaths in our ears. There are people who are destined to be simply ours, forever, even if only through memories. [3] Memories. Memories are all we have left when someone leaves. Author's space: Hello = D Yes, here I am again…. I know, it took me a little while to update but as the deadline for the contest is near I decided to put the two chapters on the same day. What to say? I liked this story, I loved writing it even if it is a sad story, very sad but I loved every detail. And then, when I finished it, it seemed as if I had lost a part of me, maybe it will be stupid. As for the previous chapter, I note that:
[1] and [1.1] correspond to the quotations from Grey's Anatomy of 11x23 and 11x22 [2- 3] correspond to the quotations from a book "Let our love reach the stars"
And then the piece of the song "200 notes" that I inserted is always by Pausini.
If you wonder why I put in a line from a book simply because I think it fits the story perfectly, I think it's perfect and I don't think there's a better conclusion.
I hope you like the story, that it left tenderness, sweetness in you and made you feel emotions as it happened to me when writing it. And also I hope not to offend anyone for how I dealt with the issue of the death of a husband, or in any case of a loved one because I think everyone reacts to pain in different ways. I close by thanking, as always, my cousin Viviana who made this story perfect, at least for me, she advised me, suggested and made the story take the form I had in mind and that perhaps in some points I could not. Finally, thanks to all of you who will read it <3 Kisses