so as of last may, it's been three years since my fiancée died. We.....weren't anything special I suppose. We met through mutual friends on facebook, moved to skype and acted like fools once we realized the other was cuter than either of us had ever thought. WE had an on and off again relationship that lasted for about a year, not even a year if you count all the time we spent broken up, but despite that, neither of us really ever stopped loving the other, but we were hormonal teenagers, and sometimes we only knew how to express love through fighting.
Still, despite how unromantic and unhappy my relationship may sound, it was possibly one of the few good things to happen in my life. He was the first guy who was....good to me, who cared about me, and is a large part of the reason I have any semblance of sanity left after everything I've been through, a lot of that is not what this post is about though, so i'll just brush over it all.
Despite all the fighting and the mutual issues we struggled with, we managed to be happy together, we even got engaged. We were young, and we kept having this fantasy of running away together, even if we were poor, we'd be together and happy, and what else could be better? We even managed to have a wedding.....officiated by a fourteen year old who probably wasn't licensed xD. But it was marriage enough for us at the time, and from then on, I called myself Mrs. Little, I still do sometimes.
It was a week or two after our wedding that he was mugged on his way home from work. His family was poor, he worked part time nights to help out, and apparently the idiot never thought to invest in some sort of protection for the late night walks home. He was really bad when someone found him, I don't even know how long he was there in pain. All I knew was he was at the hospital, in a coma.
I always knew Erik was a sleepyhead, he's still sleeping, he's dead, he's gone. To heaven or hell, maybe nothing exists beyond this realm for my angel, but all I know is that he isn't in my arms where he belongs. Despite this, I've managed to put the past behind me a little bit. I'm currently in a relationship with my childhood friend, and he's an amazing man. He gets what i'm going through and is impossibly patient with me.
But nothing has made me forget Erik. Sometimes I try and make believe that he's just in a coma, that the funeral didn't happen, that I didn't bawl my eyes out while standing there, trying to share some happy memories with everyone. But I know i'm lying to myself, pain and memories from a fantasy are not so realistic as their true counterparts, and I have to face facts that he's never coming back. I try and move on with my life, date, go to college, have a life, but it all feels so empty and meaningless. If I wasn't such a coward and afraid of physical pain, I could be with him right now. But here I am, scared and bearing my soul to a community of strangers.
Why did I write this? I don't know, I just needed to try and make sense of it myself. All I know is as much as I try to climb out of my own grave, I just keep falling back in. This life is nothing anymore, sure I have a guy that loves me, but it's not fair that I can't give him my heart in return, even if I do love him, my heart is in some gave in Canada with a worn tombstone where my angel lays, and three years haven't changed a thing.
