6 Steps To Get Over Them

TW: Contains themes of death and some gore.

1.Wait For Them

   You keep waiting, sitting on the corner of the bed where you used to laugh and talk with her. It's not bad, always waiting for her to join you, but when she does, it's less laughing now. Now it's just crying, and you can’t even hug her. You know you can’t because you’ve tried, only to fail again and again.

   You call her sunshine and do the things she used to love. She was the light of your life, constantly complimenting and loving you, even when dark times came and you didn’t deserve her affection. 

   How can one be so close to someone, yet so far away? You tend to ask yourself when you drown yourself in your sorrow, longing for things to return to how they were. When things weren’t the same every day, just sitting on the bed, waiting.

   Always waiting.

         Waiting.

                           Waiting.

                                             Waiting.

2.Distract Yourself

   Knowing that you can’t do anything about the predicament you’re in, you go to take a walk outside. You walk on the sidewalk and wave to a few neighbors of yours, but none of them wave back. They don’t even glance at you when you call out their names, almost as though you no longer exist.

   You pass the park that your kids love. You and the kids used to play on the swings all the time, laughing and screaming at you to push them higher. 

   Those were the good days, You think as you gaze at the now empty swings, only to be rocked gently by the breeze. You try to imagine what your kids might be doing right now in their rooms. 

   The twins are always in their rooms nowadays, not like normal eight-year-olds.

   You wonder if your son still plays with his teddy bear, Waffles. You remember the countless adventures you and your son took Waffles on; whether it was trips to the park or helping you around the house, Waffles was always there. You were always loud, laughing loudly as your son made Waffles dump out the legos that you’d just finished picking up. 

   Usually, your son would yell about how bad Waffles was, scolding him as your wife would come into the room with a smile, asking what had happened this time.

   He isn’t so loud anymore, just quietly playing and occupying himself to pass the time.

   She tells them to be quiet lots now, your wife.

   Your wife does a lot of things she never used to do.

3.Tell Yourself The Truth

   You know she can’t follow you where you’re going. It's not even like you’d want her to follow you anyways, to this gloomy place. Not that it's bad, no, not at all. You still get to see her, and you’re right next to her, right now, even if she doesn’t acknowledge your presence. Maybe she doesn’t even know you’re there.

   Regardless, she’s your sunshine. You said those vows at the altar and planned to stick to them. 

   You planned to stick to them even though she’d broken hers.

   You know she regrets it, but that doesn’t make it sting any less.

   Her actions speak for her.

   You know that she can’t follow you, so you follow her. When she goes to make the kids breakfast, you follow, glancing at stacks of old newspapers surrounding your chair at the table.

   You’d loved those moments, reading the news with a cup of coffee in your hand. That's one of many things you longed to experience once more, but here they all were, growing dusty next to your usual spot.

   You’re able to realize that you need to stop being delusional and face the cold, hard truth about the real reason they’re growing dusty with your favorite mug. Everything was cold now, the mug, the truth. You even remember the glass, how cold it was when it sliced through you. 

   You just want things to be warm now. You want that same warmth, the tingling warmth of when you and your wife bobbed along the ocean waves of San Diego, the place where you went on your honeymoon with her. You want the same warmth you felt when you held your kids for the first time. You want the same warmth you felt when you were in the emergency room, high on painkillers as your wife kissed you on the cheek, whispering sweet nothings and apologies in your ear before you went in for surgery.

   You just want things to be warm again.

4.Stick To A Schedule

   You decide to try to have some sort of daily consistency to avoid feeling as depressed as you do. 

   You wake up at eight o’clock, as usual, to notice your wife is no longer beside you in the bed. It's weird. She is rarely a morning person unless it's Christmas.

   You remember the first Christmas you spent together. You woke up that morning to see her grinning, staring out the window as she watched it snow. You’ll never forget that sparkle in her ocean-blue eyes as she watched the white flurries fall from the clouds. Over the years you expected her to be less enthusiastic about Christmas, but she always woke up with that same energy year after year.

   It takes you ten minutes to get only a quarter of that energy, only to use it all to get up and pull yourself together.

   You head downstairs and watch your wife making breakfast, your kids sitting at the table in their usual spots. Your son is quietly playing with a toy plane, and your daughter reading a book.

   They don’t spare you a glance as you walk behind them to get your shoes. 

   Not that they would’ve wanted to spare you a glance anyway. You weren’t around as much as you should’ve been, constantly focused on work and finances. You lost your spark over the years, not always being for them when you should’ve been.

   You remember one of the last times you came home late. 

   Your wife, as usual, was leaning against the counter with a cup of tea, her lips pursed as you walked through the door.

   “You’re late.” She quipped, glancing at her watch. “A quarter past one.”

   “I’m sorry my dear, I didn’t mean-”

   “-to be back so late.” She finishes with a sigh. “I assume you were working. Honestly, couldn’t you have a better excuse?”

   “No.”

  Silence washes the room in an awkwardness you didn’t think was possible, your vision blurred as you look down at the ground in shame.

   “I’m sorry.”

   “No, you’re not.” She laughed bitterly, looking into her mug, her hands cupping the warmth. “If you were sorry, you would’ve come back sooner. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t have missed your daughter’s first dance recital. She kept asking where you were, you know. ”

   She pauses before adding, “She was disappointed. And to be honest, I was too. You’re not the man I married, Cyrus.”

   You're silent and ashamed as your wife gets up and leaves her tea on the counter, going back to the bedroom.

   You regret not being around more.

   Maybe that's why your wife went back on her vows.

   Speaking of your wife, you notice she's wearing a lovely black dress. It was the dress she wore on your first date, you realize. She's grown, sure, but she still looks just as gorgeous as the day you first took her out for dinner.

   You remember picking her up in your Ford Escort, precisely at six thirty-two. Little dorky you had been more nervous than a goldfish making eye contact with a cat. You’d been dressed in a suit and everything.

   Maybe you should’ve worn suits more.

   Maybe you should’ve done a lot of things.

   The twins are dressed to match her, all black for both of them.

   Usually, about this time you’d go for your morning walk before your wife wakes up, but today it seems that plans have changed.

   Your wife and kids get in the car and you hop in with them, in the passenger seat. You have a feeling that this will be your last day with them, even if that day felt like it was long before now.

5.Saying Goodbye, Weather You Like It Or Not

   You watch as your wife concentrates on the road, driving down the street as the kids talk in the back. Your wife finally tells them to be quiet, her voice breaking as she looks into your daughter's eyes through the review mirror. 

   People told you all the time that she looked just like you, how her eyes matched perfectly with yours. You always laughed and said that she was more of a daddy’s girl.

   Maybe it's not such a good thing now, because every time your wife looks into those blue eyes of hers, she thinks of you. And now, the thought of you isn’t the happy thought it once was.

   Silence takes over the rest of the drive.

   She parks the car in front of a building. It's a small church, a graveyard just next door to it. Many cars are already parked all around the pavement, you observe as you walk next to your wife, the kids not too far behind.

   You enter just in time to hear the pastor start his speech.

   You have the feeling this is an important event, given so many people were here. With a formal dress code, you assumed, since they were all in black. This must be an important occasion.

   “Ladies, gentlemen.” The pastor nods as he looks at your wife with a solemn nod, a look of sympathy in his eyes. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of Mr. Cyrus Azelheart. He was loved by many and…”

   You feel dizzy. You feel sick. You want to turn over and throw up in the trashcan next to you.

   You’re attending your own funeral.

   You want to say something, to tell everyone you’re not really dead and to not give up, that there's still a chance for you to live on. 

   No words come out.

   Before you have a chance to process that your body is the one in the casket off to the left, your wife walks up to the podium. To say a few words about the beloved husband, that same husband who she cheated on.

   “I would like to start by saying that Cyrus was an amazing man. He was handsome and kindhearted.” She smiles sadly as tears begin to stream down her cheeks, the pastor passing her a tissue. “And while we had our fair share of relationship troubles, I loved him. No, no. I love him. And he will forever live on in our hearts…”

   You zone out as she continues talking, trying to grasp the fact that this is it. This is goodbye. This will be the last time you see your wife's face, the last time you ever look at your kids.

   You miss the chances you didn’t kiss your wife, wishing you could go back and kiss her every time. You miss the dates you never went on but talked about going on, and all the plans you made.

   You’ll miss them. You’ll miss a lot of things you never truly had.

6.Accepting That You’re Leaving Their Lives, Forever

    “May he rest in peace.” The priest shuts his bible, he places it back on the lectern. 

   They were going to leave you here, trapped in your casket.

    She walks over to the casket as people begin to clear out, staring down in before she leans down and kisses your lifeless cheek. You feel it, even now on your spiritual body.

   You want more of her kisses, her touch. You want life, to see your kids grow older, to go to a nursing home with your wife. You want to spend the rest of your days with her.

   You hope she knows that you loved her too, even if you didn’t always act like it.

   You hope she knows as she promptly walks out of the church, sobbing as she embraces your best friend’s open arms.

   You always liked Mark, you did. You did until he and your wife slept together, causing you to go on that final ‘late night drive’. You know she regrets it. You can’t tell if he does, but you hope he feels a bit of remorse for being one of the primary factors of your death.

   You’d known Mark since the fourth grade, when you’d both teamed up together and put toads in the teacher's desk. You’d been best friends ever since.

   You walk over to the casket, slowly, to see if they managed to cover everything up from the crash. There are no more blood stains on your face, no more shards of glass in your stomach. 

   You’re dressed nicely, in a suit, your eyes closed. You wished you always looked that nice when you were alive because maybe she would’ve loved you more if you’d tried harder.

   You watch as the pastor puts the lid on your coffin, sucking you into it. You always hated tight spaces, especially knowing you’re trapped here for eternity.

   You have one more realization before your mind goes numb.

I never truly lived.