United in death
Pulling up the covers, he turned out the bedside lamp. To the darkness, he said. “I love you.” She had died almost four years ago. Yet every night and several times a day, he repeated the same phrase. Did he love her? Yes, he did, maybe more today than he had then. His mind went back to those last few minutes in the hospital. He knew she couldn’t live. He looked into her dying eyes and said. “I love you.” She mouthed the same back to him. The last words she said on earth.
Forty-two years of married life. Of waking each morning with her by his side. The hardships, the difficult times, the death of their parents. Walking by each other’s side. The birthdays, the anniversaries, the Christmases. Just being together was enough. He closed his eyes. Tomorrow was just another day to live alone. He dreamed of meeting her for the first time. She smiled, hoping he liked what he saw. He did. Their first date, their wedding day. How beautiful she was.
In his dream, she came into his arms. Her lips were warm and inviting. He opened his eyes. The dream seemed so real. He blinked. She stood before him, smiling. Around them was a light stronger than the sun. Yet like a soft glow. Again, she kissed him. “Welcome home, honey.” Her voice was musical. Clothed in shining white, she looked like she did on their wedding day. Then he knew it wasn’t a dream. He was home.
They found him in bed. A smile on his face. He had died during the night. They buried him next to her, united in death.