November 2, 2011
Although in my head it feels like time has stood still, it has in fact been 231 days since I last wrote in here. I have felt like the walking dead all this time, so alone that I didn’t want to continually write the same mundane, depressing words. Just writing about him causes the pain the resurface a like hot poker stabbing me through the heart. Despite everyone’s words, the pain has not gotten easier; if anything it has become worse. Our baby is due any day now and all I can think is that it will never meet its daddy.
Some days I get so angry with Johnathon for leaving me, for going back into the house to get that stupid ring. What use is a ring when I’ve lost him? That ring cost my love his life. I haven’t been able to look at that ring since his parents’ gave it to me.
With the birth of our baby imminent I have decided to write Johnathon a letter. I feel now that it is time to let go of my pain, I know it won’t be as easy as that, but I have to try relieve myself from this pain for the sake of my baby.
My Dearest Johnathon,
I feel I need to write this letter to you so that I can tell you some things and to hopefully erase some of this pain that has been eating away at me. I miss you so much my love, every day I hope and pray that I could see you for just one more minute, have you wrap your arms around me.
Why Johnathon? Why did you go back into that house? Why didn’t you follow me? Don’t you realize how much I need you? How much our baby needs you? Now I’m completely alone in this world.
Waking in the morning is the worst part of the day for me. For just a split second every morning I believe that you are still here. I turn over looking to drape my arm over you and cuddle up – but I always end up touching a cold, empty side of the bed. My whole body yearns for you every second of every day.
You have missed so much my love, the first time our baby kicked, talking to it, watching my belly grow to the size of a house. It’s quite extraordinary now, when it moves, it’s like my stomach is a tidal wave, rippling from one side to the other. I so desperately wish you were here to share this with me.
Without you I feel incomplete, the part of me that could smile has gone. The smallest things feel like a huge task. But I do them. I have to, for our baby.
There’s something I need to tell you, I know how the fire started and I know why it was started. But I guess you already know that now don’t you? Charles started the fire, he started it because your mom told him about us having a baby, he vowed revenge on us and you paid with your life. I’m so so sorry that you got involved in all this my love. If I had just been able to resist you and done the right thing then you would still be alive. That is something I will have to live with for the rest of my life.
Our baby is due any day now. I cannot wait to meet him or her.
I’m so scared my darling, what if it looks like you?
Of course, I love this baby unconditionally. But I am terrified, not of the labor – although I am sure that will be painful – but what if it has your eyes, nose, and lips? How will I be able to look at it every day?
I just don’t know.
Wouldn’t that make the pain so much worse, because of the constant reminder, or would it help? Help knowing that even though I cannot have you with me, a part of you would still be living on indefinitely in our child.
It would be even worse, I imagine, if the baby bore no resemblance of you at all. That would shatter me. Because then you’d be gone. It would almost be as if you never existed. I couldn’t bear that. No matter how hard I try to prepare myself for either outcome, I know either way it will be hard.
I’m settled somewhere new now. Well, as settled as I can be anyway. I have been doing some work as a teacher at the local school here. It doesn’t pay well, and as you can imagine, it was a struggle trying to find any work as a pregnant widow. I have told everyone that my husband died in the war. It’s not exactly truthful but there was a war between us and Charles. The principal is a very nice man, he is eager for me to leave work as the birth approaches, but I simply can’t afford to do so.
I have a small apartment near the school; it’s not a large place at all. But it will suffice. It has a tiny kitchen with nice size living room. Obviously I don’t have a lot of furniture, but I have managed to place a dining room table in the living room, too. I have managed to salvage a small crib from a skip. It looks really nice now that I have touched it up with some paint. I wish things were different, and that this wasn’t how things were. But with little money and no support it is the best I can manage. I am determined to make things right for our baby. It’s true, our child will always be faltered by not having you around. But the least I can do is be the best mother imaginable.
And I will be.
The day you left this life, my whole world came crumbling down. But slowly, piece by piece, I am starting to rebuild the structure that is me again. Not a day will go by in my life where I won’t miss you, think of you, love you or need you. Every time I look at our child I will be full of sorrow, that it didn’t get the chance to meet you, and get to know you for the wonderful person you were. That’s one thing I can never give her. But I have my memories; they are starting to come back to me now. It was blurry for a while.
As for my heart, I am certain that will never heal again. Not until the blissful day when I can reunited with you again. And if it were not for our baby, I would be with you now. Where we could be together for forever.
Together forever, just you and I.
Our love cannot be broken, not by time, distance or even death. I realize that now.
This is not goodbye, this is farewell. For I will be with you again one day of that I am sure.
I love you Johnathon,
Always have, always will.
x x x
As the tears streamed down my face, they stained the pages, blurring the words that bared my soul.
Walking over to the small fireplace – that provided my only source of heat – I placed the letter into the flames, watching as they rapidly engulfed my letter. The same way they would have engulfed his body.
Crumpling to the floor, as sobs racked my body, I watched as my letter turned to ash. Just like that, everything I had felt was gone. The sobs were now shaking my body, and I wrapped my hand protectively over my nearly ready bump, as if by doing so I was protecting it from the pain I was feeling.
“Goodbye,” I cried as the last piece of my letter was taken over by the flames.
I cried out as a different kind of pain spread over my stomach, the intensity of it completely taking my breath away. Just as quickly as it came, it went again, allowing me to catch my breath.
Standing up, I felt the urge to use the bathroom, but before I could make it a trickle of water started seeping down my leg, which then became a gush.
As another pain ripped through my stomach I had the hold onto the chair for support. I think our baby is ready to make its arrival.