Consider This

What if you were given a choice? You, or the one you love? What would you choose; live in a world without the person you treasure, or die knowing that person was safe? Some of us could not make that choice instead we would try to make sure we both made it out alive. Not all of us are capable of making the hard choices. 

I love you.

I meant those words when I said them to her. I told her that death would do us part, but it's so soon. "It's okay baby." I whispered in her ear, "It's all going to be okay. I promise I'll get you out." I had told her those lies because I loved her. I thought we were both going to die, but I didn't want her to be afraid. I was trying to protect her, funny, how she ended up saving me.

I remember the smoke, so much smoke. It would give me lung cancer later. There was fire everywhere, it gave me burns as we walked through it down the stairs, avoiding the weak patches, just trying to make it. My body was scarred, broken, and bruised. But that was nothing. Nothing compared to the sheer relief of seeing the door, of truly believing that we were going to make it. Nothing compared to the jolt of shock that went through my body as she pushed me. Nothing compared to the feeling, the mix of shock, guilt, and disbelief as I watched the women I loved crushed by burning embers. I hope I never feel a feeling like that again. 

I wonder why sometimes. Why didn't she run forward as fast as she could? Why didn't she grab my hand and pull me with her? Perhaps she realized that she had to make a choice. So she chose me. 

I am honored that she chose me; now at least. But back then I was young and selfish, I was angry at her, angry at myself, angry at the world. I think that pointless, endless anger aged me. I closed myself off to love. I did not let myself feel. I created this illusion that I was okay, but the only person that I fooled was myself. 

What if she had saved herself? She would have been filled with regret, with shame. She would have hated herself, but eventually, she would have healed. She would surround herself with friends and family. She would find someone new. She would be happy. But she chose me, and I like to think that she had a reason. 

Consider all of the possibilities if it pleases you. Rewrite my story, I don't mind. At the end of the day, after all the what if's. Consider this: maybe you made the right choice after all. Prehaps life goes on. Just something to consider. 

I chose you.

I remember the last time he told me he loved me. He said "I love you and I'll keep you safe." he was just trying to be strong for me, I heard the terror in his voice. I always hated how men did that; tried to act strong. I'm not a child, I can read a situation. I remember how many time's I thought I was going to die, the second we left our hotel room when the smoke hit my lungs, when we were rushing down the stairs and my foot got stuck. But in a way, I'm glad that I go to chose how I would go, pushing my husband, the man that I had married earlier that day out of the way. Choosing his life over mine. I hope that I didn't create a demon that will haunt him. I hope that I didn't plant seeds of guilt that will grow until the day he dies. I chose him because I loved him. I chose him because I knew that he would choose me in a heartbeat. I chose him because I remembered our wedding, earlier that day. His vows, they swept my off my feet, just like his proposal, just like every word that came out of his mouth. Oh, I loved him. I love him still. I know that he remembers me. He misses me, thinks of me often, whispers my name, a name I will not tell, and I whisper his back. He has fallen back in love, but I am not bitter. It's a sign that he has moved on, with a woman that loves him just as much as I do. It makes me happy that the one I loved is happy. How it hurt to see him mourn, to see him weep. I wanted to scream, that I was okay, I wanted him to be okay, I could never resent him. 

It is not just him I left behind. My mother, my role model, my everything. She cried for me, year after year. The anniversary of my wedding and my death, was so hard for her, but she stayed strong for my brother. Thank god for my brother, if it were not for him my mother would not have anyone to pull her out of the dark world that her mind had become. She had to be strong for him. 

I do not regret much, but I do regret that I did not spend enough doing what I loved with who I loved. What I wouldn't give to play video games with my brother, to sing drunkenly with my mother, to watch old movies with my husband. I will never see the people that I love again, and they will never see me. But when I run all of the possibilities in my head when I consider all of the possible outcomes, I do not weep, I do not rage, and I do not regret it. I just remember how lucky I am, how lucky that I got to hear him say I love you. How lucky I am that I will not be forgotten.