Short Stories

Gone

“I guess you’ll never really know what you have until it is gone.” She used to say that all the time and that’s the reason why she always put importance on everything that she has. She loved the smell of coffee and whenever we go to a coffee shop she would immediately inhale the scent of it, she loved reading, she loved the way books made her feel, she loved singing, she loved how she can let out anything that she’s been hiding using her voice, she loved laughing at nonsense things and I loved her for it, she loved her cat Elle, she loved my eyes, she loved a lot of things and she made sure that those things know that they are important to her.

I’m here once again, to our place. The place where I told her that I love her, the place where we had our first kiss, the place where we could do everything without anyone to stop us. The place of laughter, of love, of tears, of feelings, of sorrow and above all of our happiness. Sitting in her favorite swing made me remember how sometimes we would get into an argument and I would talk nonsense probably hurting her in the process and she would go out and sit in this swing as she cries silently while I pretend that I do not know that she’s bawling her eyes out. I wish I did not pretend, I wish I told her I’m sorry, I wish I told her that I love her.

“I miss you” I sighed hoping that somehow she would hear me. I miss her, I miss her laugh, I miss her nagging, I miss how she would pout whenever she does not get her way, I miss her mad face, I miss how she would pretend to get mad whenever I don’t follow what she wants me to do and more than anything else I miss how much she smiles as bright as the sun before she would tell me that she loves me.

“She knows darling” I heard my mom say as she watches me through the door of our garden. I held the letter that she gave me years ago, it was when we first had a misunderstanding and I don’t want to read it, I told her that I’ll never read it even when she told me that I should read it. She told me that the letter that she gave me contains all the love that she have for me, and up until today I still do not have the courage the read it, but now this is the only memory that I have of her. Courage does not even matter anymore, this is her only memory, only remembrance of her, of the love of my life.

“Mom, I was never good enough for her, I’ve hurt her countless of times, i made her cry, I made her mad at herself, I made her stop believing on herself, I made her feel like she does not deserve to be loved.” I cried as I held her letter on my chest.

“No, darling, she loved you very much, and I know that more than anything else she remembers how much you loved her, how many times you made her laugh, how many times you made her happy, and how many times you made her feel loved.”

“But, I’ll never get to tell her that again mom” he looked at her mother with tears streaming on his face.

“You’re wrong, you can always tell her that you love her sweetheart. She’s going to hear you, she always will, and she might not answer back but you have to know that she’ll always love you.”