Apple Seeds

I wish somebody would’ve told me that dissociating yourself from pain will only cause more damage. Then again, I probably wouldn’t have understood. I know I wouldn’t have comprehended the concept of experiencing misery in order to value joy. Not because I was too naive, I simply didn’t have the tools to apply that logic. In fact, I wish I didn’t have the knowledge so I could continue on in my bliss of ignorance. I would trade so much to live a life unaware of trauma, to walk through the world without the cognizance of potentially not making it into the next day. 

Death is the one constant in a reality compacted with change. All things must pass, yet, if we were to focus on that on a day to day basis, living would become synonymous with dying. Still, I was never taught about how to properly deal with it. The emotions it creates, the psychological discomfort, the way it can drain days of its colors and the sun of its warmth. Being unprepared for the finality of life sucks. For this feeling to be the result of my first time personally dealing with it, I can’t imagine life returning to the way it was…I don’t want it to go back to the way it used to be.

This has allotted me the freedom to be confused without judgement. So far nobody has pestered me about why I haven’t smiled lately. Managers don’t pressure me into completing tasks based on their time schedule. The costume I wear in order to assimilate into society has been collecting dust ever since she died. Somehow this tragic event has given me a grace period from life where I don’t need to have answers or reasons for my actions. I can simply just be which is what I need. 

I needed this time to question what’s the point of everything if it all must come to end. Why haven’t we evolved to rid ourselves of grief? Why are many of us chemically designed to have a will to survive? Why does death feel different than every other type of closure?

I also needed the space to disregard all the pondering and see what is in order to accept things as they are. My wife is dead. My love for her is not. The pain isn’t decreasing as the days go by. The next day is going to go by.

As I sit here gazing at the white beams of the star ricocheting off the indigo waves, listening to trees failing to whistling at each other, feeling the tiny particles of water that were once surfing on the wind land on my skin, inhaling the cycles of destruction & creation, tasting the plainness of my tucked lips, sensing the environment operating seamlessly, indifferent if I was to be here or not, all I can think about is apples. 

Her strange addiction to apples was something I never quite grasped. Her pajamas were decorated with yellow and green apple slices. Her favorite saying when she was losing an argument was, ‘you can’t compare oranges to apples.’ ( I think it’s obvious as to what brand her phone & laptop were. ) She would light cinnamon apple candles all around the house every Thursday night because she wanted to start the weekend ‘in a sweet way.’ Her favorite pair of earrings were custom apple stems. She constantly told people that apples were responsible for the genius of Isaac Newton. If everything else about her wasn’t perfect this obsession with apples would’ve been a major red flag for me and I’m a thousand percent sure if I was to zoom out of that red flag I’d discover one big crimson apple.

Of the millions of moments we shared, why was it her quirk that dominated my thoughts when I wasn’t forced to think about anything? Another question I didn’t really want the answer to. Honestly, I was satisfied with the brief moment of joy reflecting on those memories…I hope death doesn’t taint those too. 

I’m beginning to despise the word ‘death.’ It’s starting to sound sleazy and unforgiving. The last word in a sentence of curses. Every time I utter that wretched combination of noises my spirit glooms. I envy those that view it as a celebration because it cements a life completed. Since a life lived is a miracle, for them when it ends there’s no need for misery. That’s a mental state I can’t adopt. I can accept she has transitioned but I refuse to celebrate as if I’m happy that she left me to go somewhere better. Selfish I know but how would you feel if half of you suddenly disappeared? Also a question I don’t need an answer too because I can tell you how terrible it is. I could do that but I’d rather talk about apples.

So sweet and nourishing; one of few things in this world that’s as good for you as it looks. Every curve perfectly placed only added more character to the radiant skin. Inconspicuous yet desirable. Never overwhelming but always fulfilling. Gosh I miss having apples around…

Today they put her ashes in an urn. To me it feels like only the residue of her soul is left inside which is more than enough for me. I’ve been walking around with it all day which is kinda creepy but my level of care was eradicated once her eyes lost their focus. My legs are cramping since I’ve been walking aimlessly for God knows how long which hurts and why I used the last bit of my mobility to troop it to our house.

Instead of going inside I went to the backyard, sat up against the tree and put the urn right next to me. I haven’t cried today; Probably since it feels like she’s been next to me all day long. Even her remains are powerful enough to keep me calm. As soon as that thought ended something fell on the top of my head and knocked over the urn. I looked to see what it was and a fully ripe apple sat there, planted in some of the spilled ashes. Then I knew what I had to do. I took the seeds out of the apple, mixed them with her ashes and buried them a few yards away from the tree. That way she’ll be pleasantly surprised when she springs up again.