Until the day that I see you on the other side-Come and take me home-Evanescence
He was famous to her, even before he was. Even before that he was her star. She loved him. Why? She could never answer that question. She didn’t want to. She just knew she did. He was her writer, and one of the greatest loves of her life. He made her see in color for the first time in years. Made her feel like she was important, that she mattered, and that she was loved.
She stands in the cemetery at sunset. The sky is the color of blood as the sun sets its sights on awakening the other side of the world. She is blind to the vibrant color though. All she sees is a headstone. It is stark white, and newly etched with the name and date of a man she loves. It’s a name that used to dance on her tongue. It made her giggle like a school girl and weep like a child longing for their mother. She wishes she could say his name out loud, but she can’t. Not anymore. She was hoping she would see it next to hers. On stationary, a published book, maybe even a marriage certificate.
She feels a chill in the autumn air. She was always hoping she could visit this place in the summer. The sun descends behind the trees, and she wraps her arms around herself, wishing she had held him in this life. Just once. Just once! She swears she can feel him now. The chilled breeze is his whisper in her ear, telling her he loves her. Still. She feels the softness of his hands on hers. She hears him whisper her name. It’s like he’s standing right behind her.
It’s dusk now and getting colder, darker. But she doesn’t want to move. For moving would break the spell. She’s afraid his ghost will disappear. She wants to turn around and see him there. With his silly smirk, laughing eyes and beautiful hands. She wants to hear her nickname fall from his lips. If she moves from this spot, she’ll never hear it. She must, hear it. She must!
With the sun now set the night has settled in. There is no light in the cemetery. She thinks she feels his presence disappear with the sun. She misses him so damn much. She wanted to see him, in the flesh. But the timing never worked out. Even though they loved each other, something always got in their way. Distance for one. Other lives to live for another. They connected on so many levels but physically, they never could.
She knows part of her ashes will be buried with him someday. She’s already made the arrangements. For even though they never met, they never lived together and they never were a family, their hearts were still each other’s home. She knows that even though they never connected physically in this life, that they will. In the next one. There they will meet, fall in love, have children, grow old and die together.
She’s still standing at his grave. It’s full dark, but she doesn’t care. The moon, the moon is full and bright. And she can see, everything. All the words they said and all the love they shared. It illuminates her soul and warms her. She begins to pull apart the flowers that she brought to place on his grave. She spreads the petals on the headstone and all over the ground around it. She finally begins to cry. For in that instant, she hears it. Her nickname whispered and carried on the chilly autumn breeze. And then played hauntingly in her ear.
She turns to look behind her, but of course he isn’t there. She knew he wouldn’t be. But she can finally move from the spot she has been standing in. She kneels down and with her slender fingers, lovingly traces his name on the stone. She kisses her hand and blows the kisses toward the stone. Says goodbye and that she will see him in the next life. She begrudgingly moves her feet and wanders to the cemetery gate. Before she passes through it, she looks back. She knows the next time she’s here, it will be to rest, with him for eternity. She walks through the gate and back to her real life.
The ghost of him watches her go and again whispers her nickname, but she is too far away to hear it. Then he steps back into the shadows and patiently waits for her return.
this is one of the saddest, most beautiful tales i have ever read – thank you petal
I’m so glad you liked it my sweet. My sweet friend Tracy gave me the picture. Then the story bloomed. It’s a heart breaker. One of the saddest stories I’ve ever written. I cried when I proofed it, so I thought it might be good. Thanks for your words, they mean so much to me.
crying is always a good sign of a great story, imhfo anyway x
Well I kinda like your opinion my sweet.
I love stories that paint such a detailed picture in your mind that you can see it as clearly as if you were standing there! That was, I agree, a most wonderful and heartrending story. Thank you for the tears
Thank you so much for feeling it Kip. I just let the words pour out of me. Then during my first reading I bawled. I knew it was going to be good. I don’t want to sound snobby but I just felt every word. Every single damn word. It’s not a real story, but elements of are true. I think that’s what made it so emotional for me. Feeling love that intense and then loss is just so hard to deal with.
Exactly the same thing that watered my eyes. Too much experience in stories similar in gist (no humans were killed in the making of these stories, lol). I love it when every word just comes out like blood from your heart, it just flows (ok, it would spray for real, but you know what I mean). I love the idea of writing a story based on a picture, too. I may have to try that sometime. It would be a good start to help me write “outside myself”.
I have friends send me pictures all the time. Then I write for them. The stories are fiction but there are elements of them and others in their stories. One friend printed the story and framed it. She hung it in her newly renovated bedroom. I took that as such a great compliment. It meant everything to me.
That is quite a compliment! Nothing like knowing that something you’ve created is valued by at least one other person in life
Much like a warm blanket – one that you don’t realize is so comforting until several minutes after you’ve wrapped up – this post touches me. Beautiful, as always, and heart-wrenching as well. You are a talent.
Oh t thank you for the kind words. It broke my heart to write it. I cried so much. I’m glad it touched you. And I’m glad you shared that with me. Your words matter so much to me. I think YOU are an amazing talent too. And an amazing person as well.
Wow beautiful! I was so caught up in it..I wanted to know more!
Thanks Diana. There’s so much more to tell but I think I’ll just let the story speak for me.
wonderfully written. we didn’t “read” that, we “felt” that.
Oh thank you my dear. I felt every word as I wrote it. Every damn word. I cried when I proofed it. I knew it was going to be good. I go back and read it from time to time just to feel it all again. I still can’t believe it came from me. Thanks for the kinds words. They mean so much.
Oh Renee…
I know baby. It will always be my best.
Reblogged this on Rendezvous With Renee and commented:
Feeling a tad nostalgic today. I know this isn’t a very old post, but it is my best. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to write like this again. Only love can make a writer, write like this. Only love……
Oh Renee, this is absolutely beautiful.
Thanks so much Andrea. It was my best story. It will always be my best one. As I’ve said before, I poured my soul into this one.
I’m sure that all great writers have one piece they are most proud of! It’s hard to write so completely from the soul every time, it takes a lot out of you.
How beautiful…..that is all I can say! Just Beautiful.
Oh thank you honey. It is my best. I think it always will be.
WOW! That was something that spoke to me. I’m not sure why but it did. I will be reading that again and again until I can grasp why. Just beautiful. Thank you.
Thank you for your comment. And yes, please read it over and over. I know I go back to it all the time. It’s one of my best. If not THE best story I’ve ever written.
Renée, este é o mais mais triste e tão grandiosamente belo conto de amor que já li. Imagino a dor, a aflição e tudo mais num átimo do tempo descrito por voce. Perder um grande amor, quase tocado, quase sentido, ido no tempo da saudade.
Renée, não sou Maestro, o blog é nosso, eu e ele postamos fotos, mas sou a Perfume de Mulher, sou mulher e ele, o Maestro é meu amor, meu nome real é Denise, mas por motivos óbvios não o divulgo por lá, mas voce pode me chamar de Dê se desejar, ou simplesmente Perfume.
Obrigada por dividir com o mundo tuas tão belas palavras! Você está sendo um presente que a internet me deu neste ano de 2012.
Doce beijo e que teu coraçãozinho logo fique forte outra vez.
Perfume.
Obrigado, obrigado, obrigado. Estou tão feliz que você está lendo meu blog. Eu encontrar o seu tão absolutamente de tirar o fôlego. As fotos, meu Deus, eu não posso nem colocar em palavras o que eu sinto quando eu ver suas fotos. Você Perfumes e do Maestro fazer um trabalho bonito. Bonito. Você não precisa divulgar muito de vós. Essa é a beleza da internet e blogs. Nós podemos ser qualquer um que queremos. Felizmente e infelizmente eu me colocar lá fora. Embora eu tenha aperfeiçoou o meu ofício e continuam a fazê-lo, eu descobri que existem predadores e conexões emocionais que são feitas e depois cortar. Tudo o que eu queria fazer era escrever, mas acontece que eu estava à procura de amor e validação também. Agora tudo que eu quero fazer é escrever de novo e as palavras sumiram. Então, eu estou desligando de escrever agora. Eu estarei de volta, mas eu vou ser muito mais cuidadoso. Por favor, continue seguindo e leitura. Espero ficar melhor e melhor com isso. Muito amor meu belo perfume de uma mulher. Temos certeza do cheiro doce que nós não?
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