Daffodil

 “Look at all the daffodils! There are so many! On the first day of spring too, I love spring!” The excitement on her face was hard to miss she was so beautiful when she got excited. Her eyes lit up like two bright stars twinkling on a clear night and her smile could warm even the coldest of hearts. She had this energy about her that seemed to vibrate it was infectious, intoxicating, exciting and addictive he loved to see her happy.

 Thinking back on that day was his favourite memory, she was the love of his life she was everything to him. He missed her so much and today, more than most because it was the first day of spring and the daffodils were out. Every year on this day he would go back to the park where the daffodils grew and remember her. Sitting on the park bench with the warm breeze blowing through the trees, the sound of birds chirping to each other announcing the first day of spring, joggers running along the park track, people walking dogs and kids playing. The sun was high and the sky was as blue as the ocean not a single cloud, it was a perfect day, just about as perfect as her.

 There were other days and other places he would visit to remember moments but this, this was his favourite, this day seven years ago was when she was just her in all her entirety. Everything he had fallen in love with. This day, the first day of spring, when she ran through the daffodils, giggling like a little girl, bright and bubbly like champagne. His heart was so full watching her it felt like it was going to explode. He chased her as she squealed and giggled and when he finally grabbed her he picked her up and spun her round and round, her long golden blonde hair flying out behind her catching the sun all shiny and silky, eyes bright, she threw her head back and laughed. He stopped and lay down on the ground with her in amongst the daffodils. She looked at him smiling, he kissed her, she kissed him back. “I love you,” she said “Almost as much as I love the spring.” She gave him that cheeky smile that he adored. “You what? Love me ALMOST as much as spring? I love you MORE than spring!” He tickled her and she squealed with laughter. “Do you know how beautiful you are?” He said as he looked down at her, she had her eyes closed feeling the warm sun on her face. “Of course! You tell me every day!” She opened her eyes and winked at him. She really was beautiful. 

 A few hours passed while he sat on that park bench thinking about her. He barely noticed time slip by, lost in thought, thinking back to when he was happy, when his life was whole. He stood up wiping his eyes, his cheeks damp with tears, he didn’t realise he had been crying but he could feel the coolness of the tears on his cheeks from the breeze blowing on them, it made him shiver and he used his sleeve to wipe his cheeks dry. 

As he was leaving the park he picked a daffodil, just one. He made the mistake of picking a whole bunch of them on his way home from work once to surprise her and she told him off. She didn’t yell or even raise her voice but she explained to him that flowers were not meant to be picked just so they can die, she said she loved how thoughtful he was bringing her flowers but if he wanted to surprise her just pick one, not a whole bunch. He loved the way they could compromise in their relationship, there were hardly any fights or arguments, they had the occasional disagreement but they always worked it out. 

 “I love how you always tell me you love me and make me feel wanted.” She said one morning in bed, rolling over and hugging him, her naked body all warm pressed up against his. “That’s because I do love you, and I do want you. You’re my everything.” 

“Yeah? Forever ever?” she said. 

“Yeah, forever ever and always.” He said. 

He meant it, he made sure he told her every day how much he loved her and how beautiful she was. He loved how she looked in the morning all sleepy and relaxed, he loved how she lit up every room she walked into, he loved her talking about her day and all the things she did, he loved her energy, her smile, everything about her. He loved all of her. He especially loved how short she was, a good foot shorter than him and he used to playfully tease her about it, it amused him the way she would pretend to get mad at him, how she would always say; “Look here, you! What I lack in height, I make up for in personality!” And she was right, she was feisty, passionate, exuberant. She made friends easily and people loved her, whenever they were out she always attracted attention but she wasn’t an attention seeker, although she could entertain a crowd easily with her sense of humour and her animated story telling. People were always telling him things like “How did you get so lucky?” “She’s definitely a keeper.” “Don’t let that one go!” He would ask himself the same question, how did he get so lucky? Of course he was never going to let her go and yes, he plans on keeping her forever or for as long as he can anyway. Nowadays he could be in a crowded room and still feel alone, there is no more spark, no more light, no more excited energy or animated stories. He never goes out, he lost touch with all their friends. Apart from work, he sees no one. 

He headed out of the park and up the street along the busy road, although the sun was shining and there was a warm breeze, you could still feel a slight chill, he held his jacked closed pulling up the collar. Cars, buses, bikes and people everywhere but no one that caught his eye, no one that sparked that feeling of butterflies in his stomach or made his heart skip a beat, not like she did. People everywhere but no one like her. He's never met anyone like her. Without her he felt so empty and hollow. On the days where he didn’t wake up in the morning with tears all over his face and pillow after dreaming about her, he would wake up numb. He hated those days more because it scared him, at least when he was sad he was still feeling something. He had resigned himself to the fact he was probably never going to be happy again but he didn’t want to lose all feeling and when he was sad he was missing her, which meant he still cared about her and he didn’t want to, one day, stop feeling anything for her. At first his friends would tell him he needed to move on, she was gone, it was time to start living again. One of his friends even went as far as organising a ‘boys’ trip, he didn’t go. His friends were not happy about it, they still went regardless of his absence but when they got back, his friend that organised the trip, had a huge go at him about not even turning up. He told him he needed to move on already, that he was being pathetic pining about her all the time, it had been three years. When his friend realised this was falling on deaf ears he left and hasn’t bothered trying to contact him since. After a while all his friends stopped calling or visiting and they didn’t include him in anymore ‘boys’ trips. 

 He was nearly there, just one more block to go. Keeping his head down, holding the one daffodil carefully next to his heart he thought about her smile again. As he rounded the corner into the cemetery yard walking between the aisles of tombstones, “Here lies such and such, grandmother to these random people, wife to that random person, loved by all etc…” “Here lies this guy, beloved grandfather, father, son, brother blah blah blah…” He had read them all, each and everyone leading up to hers he knew them all by heart. Sometimes he would say them out loud as he passed, without looking at them. Finally he arrived at hers. He placed the daffodil on her grave, kissing her headstone and, while swallowing the lump in his throat, fighting back the tears, he didn’t forget to tell her how much he loved her and how beautiful she was. 

“Here lies: 

Rebecca ‘Becks’ Tillford, 

1980 - 2013

Beloved wife, sister and daughter. 

Beautiful like a daffodil

Bright like the sun

She shone like the stars 

Loved by everyone”