Faith

I modified this a little for the restoration, so if it doesn't seem the same, that's because it isn't.

I never had your faith. Inwardly, I knew there was something beyond the flitting existence of a mortal life. But the morning I saw you die, the light I felt at the eventual end of the tunnel seemed to fade away into nothingness. It dimmed, gradually, as your breaths shuddered and struggled, until finally your last gasp for life fluttered away, like a butterfly with a broken wing. When you died, I was left in darkness.

 

I stared, tearfully, at your pallid frame lying in the hospital bed. Time was irrelevant, marked only by the deviously sane ticking of the clock on the far wall. Your hand, limp in mine, still pulsated with feeble warmth as I fought against the reality of death. I refused to believe in mortality. Death, for those moments, did not exist as I waited in vain, tense hope for your eyes to regain their strength. I don’t even remember leaving your side, just waking up, hours later in the darkness of my room, screaming for you.

 

My mind held a tenuous grip on reason and common sense, giving in to the fact you were dead by degrees. The next several days, the days until the funeral, were hollow and monotonous. My schedule seemed completely empty, my calendar filled with nothing but reminders, written in red Sharpie marker, to visit you and get updates from your doctor and, most importantly, to pray for you. Now that you were dead, I was left with nothing. I loathed sitting alone in the darkness of our home, feeling sorry for myself, but I couldn’t resist it as I listened to my crying, often embarrassingly loud, echo through the house.

 

I didn’t even speak on the day of your wake. People, sometimes crying and sometimes stony-faced, offered condolences, but they were just whipped away on the breeze as I stared at your casket. I was lost in other times, my grief playing cruelly with my soul as images of our life repeatedly flickered through my mind. I thought about the time I had believed you forgot about my birthday, only to come home and find you waiting with a Hallmark card, and the time we went on a road trip just to get an ice cream cone in a different state.

 

Mostly, though, I focused around the accident. The headlights, like two blinding eyes staring at us through our windshield. You, hoping to save us both, ripping the steering wheel in a turn so sharp it flipped the car. The haunting, consistent wailing of the horn, unable to stop because your body was pressed up against it, and the airbag, only milliseconds too late, expanded awkwardly against the door. The spider web cracks covering the windshield. The paranormal flashing of the ambulance and police car lights, throwing everything into alien, spasmodic shadows.

 

It was a closed-casket funeral, which was the hardest thing. Instead of your face, I saw a hard wooden shield.

 

My handful of dirt, which I was to throw over your coffin, drizzled slowly trough my numb fingers, sprawling pathetically over the wood. And then they buried you, put you in the ground like you were dead. I had to remind myself, constantly, that you were, that you weren’t going to scream and bang against the casket lid. That you weren’t going to live again just because I wasn’t sure if I could handle it.

 

I went about my life as normally as possible. But I was floating through the days more than I was actually living in them. I drifted from task to task with a sense of responsibility, not want. Even things I had enjoyed before, things I couldn’t bear to do before your funeral, seemed like requirements. I started calling off work, claiming I was sick. I was, in a way. For a while, I just let reality give way to my pain, and attempted to cope. Deaths never leave you the same, though, and eventually I gave up altogether let time wash over me in slow, constant waves. I lost you and had started to lose myself, letting whatever I had left inside of me emotionally to implode.

 

Thing went like that for a long time, until the calls, from my boss as well as from my friends slowed and stopped. My reality was dissolving. Hope was a pathetic and useless waste of time and energy. To me, my other half was gone into a void that I was all too eager to visit.

 

But it was the morning I thought I had died that I realized I couldn’t just let go.

 

When I woke up, Christmas was being crowned with dawn’s rosy wings, illuminating the angel standing in front of my window.

 

Your wings were silhouetted against the early light, bathed in the golden glow of the rising sun as you turned and smiled at me. Your eyes were mirror-bright. Your smile was familiar but at the same time ethereal, and I somehow sensed that your soul didn’t intend to stay. It wasn’t right for you to take me with you yet.

 

Even as I saw your ghost fade into the morning, I knew you were watching. And I knew I could continue.

Author's Note

Any grammatical or consistency lapses and your suggestions on how to fix them would be greatly appreciated. I'm working on filling this with a little more plot and a little less crap, so it'll be updated soon, I hope, but it may be a while aince I'm project multitasking. The reviews on this have been some of the most helpful I've ever gotten on a piece, by the way, so thanks to anyone who took the time.

Reviews

[Creepy Swine Guy]

Disclaimer - Look! This crit doesn't come from a book critic or an editor or even a guy who ever got an "A" in English. So if my crit isn't as glowing as you would hope, you would be well within your rights (and probably correct) in saying "What the heck does that snook know? He's no expert." I can occasionally be helpful by finding typos for you or that one sentence that doesn't read quite right. But please take my crit for what it is ... just one guys opinion.

>>>I don�t even remember leaving your side, just waking up, hours later in the darkness of my room, screaming for you.>And, what accompanied boredom but the most sinister of post-death emotions, Self-Pity and Loss.>>My handful of dirt, which I was to throw over your coffin, drizzled slowly trough my numb fingers, ...>Deaths never leave you the same, though, and eventually I gave up altogether let time wash over me in slow, constant waves.

[Clouded in Hopeful Illu..]

This is a very beautiful story of lost hope and regaining one's self. I really enjoyed reading this. Thank you for sharing.

"It dimmed, gradually, as your breaths shuddered and struggled," --- You don't need the commas at the beginning.

"last gasp for life fluttered away, like a butterfly with a broken wing." --- I really love the image you give here. It shows that this woman was the other half of the character and without her, he couldn't be complete.

"I stared, tearfully, at your pallid frame lying in the hospital bed." --- You don't need the commas.

"I don't even remember leaving your side, just waking up, hours later in the darkness of my room, screaming for you." --- This is a very powerful sentence. It shows how much the character feared for the loss of this person and just how much she meant to him.

"It was a closed-casket funeral, which was the hardest thing. Instead of your face, I saw a hard wooden shield." --- This is also another powerful and needed sentence. This shows that the main character wasn't able to have closure over the woman's death and wasn't really able to say good-bye.

"drizzled slowly trough my numb fingers," --- Through not trough.

"I gave up altogether let time wash over me in slow, constant waves." --- add and or to after althogther.

[Chloe..Across the Unive..]

Very good story .. read it for the contest .. you are a good story teller.. i didn't see any grammar mistakes ..
Chloe
xoxo

[Deidre A. H.]

First, some technical criticisms:

In the following sentence, you don't need commas. The commas in the following sentence actually distract the reader more than they need to:

"I stared, tearfully, at your pallid frame lying in the hospital bed."

And here:

"I had to remind myself, constantly, that you were, that you weren't going to scream and bang against the casket lid."

I had to read that sentence twice to realize the narrator wasn't stuttering. Try using a semi-colon (;) here: "... constantly, that you were; that you weren't..." It reads much easier and separates the two thoughts.

Now, those aside... this was pretty. A tragic handling of death, with raw emotions and the terrible downward spiral into depression. It certainly made me feel and hurt, which is good. The ending was a little more hopeful than I expected, but it was also well done. It adds to the feel of the story.

I would have personally liked the piece to be a little longer. But that is a personal preference, and it is well done as-is.

Thank you for taking interest and entering my contest. Good luck!

[Kiwi Dave]

wow, that is very intense. Great work

[Conrad Wrobel]

Amazingly well written! However, it seems to drag on a bit. Some of your imagery is priceless, I really enjoyed this piece.
I must say, this line spoke out to me the strongest.
"Time was irrelevant, marked only by the deviously sane ticking of the clock on the far wall."
Deviously sane, how did you come up with that? I love it. Cheers XD

[Michael Carr]

Aside the occasional error and dragging a bit in flow it was very good.
I really was able to feel for each character. the voice provided some great depth as well
excellent job my friend.