The Shooting Star

I lay on the bank, my husband beside me, gazing up at the stars. The sky was bright and beautiful tonight. 

We came out a lot in the evenings just to lay on the grass and look up at the night sky, hear crickets chirping, a soft breeze blowing, and sometimes a coyote howling at the full moon. 

I felt my husband put his hand in mine, bringing it to his lips he kissed it. 

“I love you, Jen.” He said softly, rubbing his hard, callused hands over my own small, soft hand. 

I smiled. He said that every night, and I would never get tired of it. Never.

“I love you, too, George.” 

We looked at each other and smiled. Twenty-five years married to this man, and I would never get tired of looking at his face. Seeing each new line and gray hair that came, I would love him till the day I died.

Just then, George pointed to the sky and we both saw a shooting star. We laid there silently, and looked till we couldn’t see it any more. 

“What did you wish for?” I asked him, already knowing his answer. It was the same  every time we saw a shooting star.

I looked over at him, but he was still looking up at the stars. “I wish for another wonderful, blissful, twenty-five years with you.” He said, turning to look at me, his eyes glistening. “What did you wish for, sweetheart?” 

“I wished that my sweet husband would kiss me.” 

He grinned. “I think that could be arranged.” 

George turned on his side, and leaning towards me, kissed me softly, sweetly, on the lips. 

“My wish came true.” I said as he laid back down again. his back. 

“It did. I only have to wait twenty-five years for mine to come true.” 

We walked back hand in hand, up to our home on the hill. We hoped that nothing could ever change this.

…

The sun, and birds chirping woke me up the next morning. I knew George would already be up making me breakfast. And coffee. I sniffed, but I didn’t smell the scent of coffee as I usually would.

That’s strange. I thought. Then I noticed that he was still in bed. Maybe he decided to sleep in today. 

I got out of bed, and started to make it. Looking at the clock on the mantle, it read eight o’clock. George usually got up at six. It wasn’t like him to sleep in. I walked around to his side of the king size bed. 

“Rise and shine, Georgie porgey.” That was the nickname I had given him when we had had our second date, and knew that we would spend the rest of our lives together. 

But he didn’t even stir from where he lay. He looked peaceful and a small smile was on his lips. 

Probably having a nice dream.

I shook him gently this time, but still he didn’t budge or open his eyes. 

“George,” my voice shook a little. “You better not be playing with me.” 

Taking his hand, I noticed that it was cold. Very cold. 

“George, please wake up. Wake up!” 

I turned on the nightstand light, and I then noticed a little piece of paper peeking out of a drawer that had not been fully shut. Picking it up I saw that it was from the doctor. And it had been sent a month prior. 

“What have you been hiding from me, George?” I said to myself. I then read the letter.

George McColly,

We have run the blood test, and have found out that the symptoms you have been experiencing are from heart failure. 

I couldn’t read anymore. George had been hiding this from me. Why would he do that? I felt a tear trickle down my cheek, then another. 

The tears flowed. George was gone. My husband, gone from this world. I held his hand and kissed it. 

I would never hear him say I love you again.

I don’t really remember calling 911, but they came and took George’s body away. Away from my life. 

A picture on the mantle caught my eye. It had been taken on our first date. Two young people who didn’t know a thing about being in love. 

We had met at the restaurant I worked at as a waitress. He was sitting alone, and I was bringing him his water. There had been water on the floor, and I slipped and the water glass I was holding spilled all over him. 

I had made a fool of myself, splayed out on the floor. And we both tried to wipe up the mess but bonked our heads constantly. 

I laughed silently to myself as I remembered that memory. 

After that ordeal, we both broke out into laughter, and then he asked me out. I had only thought going out with him would make up for what I did to him at the restaurant, but little did I know we would spend twenty-five wonderful years together. 

I would love him forever.

....

I sat on the front porch, rocking back and forth in the rocking chair. My mind was reeling with so many thoughts. 

Why did he have to die? God, why did you take him? 

I knew God had his reasons, but it was so hard for me to make sense of it. George had seemed healthy, and yet he hadn’t told me a single thing about having heart issues. 

It was so hard for me to come to terms with George really being gone now. He wouldn’t come out the front door carrying two cups of fresh lemonade anymore, and talking about our children and our first grandchild that came last month.

Looking out at the pond I remembered our last night laying out there. And George told me he loved me. And I remembered the wish he had told me. ‘I wish for another wonderful, blissful, twenty-five years.’  

The tears came then. George didn’t get his wish, and now he was gone. I just hoped that I would see him sometime again in Heaven.

I decided that I would go down to the bank where we had both shared our last conversation together, laying down on my back, I looked up at the stars. 

I would usually be amazed by the brightness of the stars, but I was still in shock and mourning the death of George. 

Then the memory of our first anniversary came to mind. I smiled, remembering. He had come home late from work, exhausted, and not wanting to do anything but go to his bed. I had forgotten about the pregnancy test that lay on our shared dresser. The test that said I was actually pregnant. Then I hear my name being yelled.

“Jennifer!” He then came barging out of the bedroom, almost falling on his face. “What is this?” He had said, shock in his voice. 

“I’m pregnant, George. Pregnant. With your baby girl or boy.”

Then we stood there hugging and crying together. Neither one of us knew a thing about being parents, and we definitely were not ready. But George had told me, ‘No matter what happens, we will get through this together.’ 

I was growing tired and weary. It was probably time for me to go back into the house. But the thought of being alone in that big bed made me want to cry.

“I’m going to be fine.” I said out loud to myself. “George is in a better place now. He will never leave my heart, but I’m going to be okay without him.”

I was going to be happy with the time God let me spend with George, and I would always mourn his passing, but I knew George wouldn’t want me to pass the rest of my days mourning for him. He’d want me to be there for our children, Milly and Michael. And see our grandson, Grayson, grow up. 

I stood up, and I looked into the pond to see the bright stars reflecting on it. Then looking up I saw a star shine brighter than the rest of them.

“I love you, Jen.” The star seemed to tell me, and I imagined that the star was George. 

“I love you, too, George.” 

And then a shooting star came into view, and I was at peace. George had sent me that shooting star to remind me of our last night together.