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Sunday was our anniversary. I had to work as I do every weekend. I woke up at 4am and bawled my eyes out for 2 hours before I had to get up and get ready for work. As I was getting ready, I couldn’t stop crying. I was late for for my shift, still crying as I drove to work. I walked in, my face still red and puffy. I put her flowers in the break room so I could go to the river after work and scatter them for her where I had scattered her ashes. Then I proceeded to have the worst day I’ve had at work yet. Everything went wrong. I was counting down the hours until I could leave to go to the park, I felt like I really needed to go. But I didn’t leave until 2 hours after my shift was supposed to end. I kept looking out the window after I was supposed to be leaving, the stack of paperwork sitting in front of me making it impossible to leave right then. I felt anxious, almost like I would have felt if I were late showing up for a date with her. It was dark when I left and I felt that maybe it wasn’t the best idea to go to the park at night by myself, but I was going to go anyway. I grabbed the flowers and was on my way.

When I got to the park, no one else was there. It was chilly and wet, still raining. I grabbed the box of flowers and walked to the pier in the dark, rain dripping down my face and smudging my glasses. I got to the railing and looked down into the river. The water was black from the darkness; I couldn’t decide if it looked empty or endless or both. I could hear fish leaping around and the constant, steady beat of raindrops on the surface. My hair was wet and clinging to my face, rain still beating down on me. I was freezing to the bone. I looked around at my surroundings and scoffed to myself a bit; so much of the park’s atmosphere matched what I felt like on the inside right then; cold, dark, empty. I stood at the railing and cried, clutching the flowers. I started talking to her, even though I didn’t know what to say. I talked for a while and the rain finally started to slow. I told her I had something for her. I opened the box of flowers, the smell was overpowering. I played with them for a minute, stroking the soft petals. I removed the water spikes from each stem carefully and arranged all the flowers in one hand. I smelled them one last time, then threw them down into the water below. They hit the surface and drifted around in the small, choppy waves. It was pitch black below, all I could see was the flowers, bouncing and drifting. It was a little calming. I walked over to the step and sat down so I could keep talking to her. I told her about my day, feeling a lot better after I told her how awful it had been. I closed my eyes and I could almost hear her say to me that as bad as it was, I made it through OK and it didn’t matter anymore. I didn’t have to physically hear her say it, we were so connected I always knew what she was going to say to me before she said it. This time was no different. I told her about things that had happened through the week; funny things the kids said/did, conversations with friends; everything that I would have ordinarily talked to her about. I kept closing my eyes and I could picture her reactions. I could picture the smile on her face, the sound of her laughter. I could picture her touching my arm. I could picture her pushing back the wet hair on the top of my head and ruffling it so that my faux hawk shot wildly in all directions. I opened my eyes quickly, it just felt a little too real. Of course, she wasn’t there. I didn’t see her at all. I cried again and told her how much I miss her, how I wish she could come back to me. I closed my eyes and I could picture the look of concern on her face. I could picture her squeezing my hand, telling me that she was sorry and that she wished she could take the hurt away for me. I could envision the warmth of her sitting next to me. My eyes popped open again with a start; it felt so real and I had to keep opening my eyes to be sure she wasn’t really there. I continued to talk to her like this, closing my eyes and just letting myself feel what I felt. It was really calming. The rain stopped and the wind wasn’t as chilly. I listened to the sound of the water. The crickets were chirping and the fish were still jumping up out of the water. As I kept talking to her, I just let myself imagine what she would say, what she would do, her face, her laughter. I finally stopped opening my eyes and just let myself get lost in the conversation. I ran out of things to say, but I just continued to sit with my eyes closed, imagining her sitting next to me quietly, resting her head on my shoulder and tapping my leg with her fingers like she would always do. After a while I opened my eyes. The clouds had dissipated a bit and the sky was blotchy with the scattered remnants. I looked over the surface of the water, the lights from the various businesses across the river bouncing over the waves. I could hear the music from one of the bars or restaurants around, laughter and loud conversation in the distance. Just like it was on this day last year. I contemplated the strong feelings I had of her being with me. I don’t believe in the afterlife or ghosts or anything like that, which was a struggle for me at first because it does feel like she is with me at times. Maybe I’m wrong and spirits do stay with us. Or maybe our connection was just that strong that I will always feel her with me in a way. I concluded that there wasn’t really a way to know and that as long as I did feel her with me from time to time, I didn’t really care where it came from. I finally decided it was time for me to go. I told her goodbye and said what I always did when I was leaving, “I love you lots like polka dots”. I promised her that I would do my best to visit every week, choking up a bit and apologizing that I couldn’t stay. As I stood and began to walk away, I imagined her smiling and saying what she would always say to me whenever I had to leave; “We only part to meet again.”

Sent in by: Jeanie
Age:30
Location: Louisville, KY

The Deviant Dyke