Three Simple Words

[mizziette]

Story Title: Three simple words

Type of story: One-shot

Main Characters: Aden Jefferies

BTTB rating: T

Genre: Grief

Does story include spoilers: no

Any warnings: No

Summary: It's been a month after Belle's death and Aden is still grieving. In an attempt to confront his emotions, he writes a letter to his deceased wife.

For all that's loved and lost, for the loved ones that remain in our hearts.

A single photograph; that was all it took. With that first click, I had you. The very essence of your spirit was captured in a single moment, a single frame. Forever. You looked so beautiful that day. I remember the smile in your eyes as you sat with the oceanic wind against your hair, framing your eyes perfectly. Your eyes mesmerised me, invited me, and only me. I would never have imagined then how many more times I’d get lost in those dark glistening eyes. But I knew I wanted to. Even in those early days when we were just flirting, I was yours. It pains that I’ll never look into those eyes again.

Because that’s all it is, isn’t it? A photograph is only ever a memory. And a memory is never the same as physically experiencing your presence. Memories have the tendency to slip away as quickly as the life slipped out of you. It has no physical existence; as much as I yearn to hold onto the memory of you, there is really nothing for me to grasp in my hands and clutch onto.

I think I might have taken our short time together for granted. See, I thought we’d be forever. But there’s no such thing is there? Life got out of the way and paved the pavement for death to march in and steal everything I hold so dear. In his defence, I suppose he was only doing what was right, taking you away from the pain your body administrated as it betrayed you mercilessly. Still, the selfish part of me hates death. Death is what took you away from me. Death is the reason I will never make any more memories with you.

The moments I replay in my brain, the moments I shared with you is all that’s left. They say that hundreds of thousands, maybe even millions, of brain cells die each second. It frightens me that those cells might contain some vital detail of our life together; that I might be losing a tiny little piece of you each time I blink my eyes. So I try not to blink. I pray for time to stop so I can capture every second we spent together, so I don’t forget it. Deep down, really deep down, there is a small part of me that understands that it doesn’t work like that but logic has no place in grief. Logic has no place in any fragment of my life right now.

You were so sweet, so sweet and vibrant and then you weren’t. Just like that, you were gone. You weren’t alive anymore. You just weren’t. You’re gone and I can’t seem to understand how the birds can still chirp in the mornings, so beautifully lyrical with their melodic tunes. The sun still rises at dawn, bright and cheerful, the tides move in and out periodically, slaves to the moon’s whim, and the earth continues to spin like clockwork, bringing day and night with each cycle, over and over and over again like nothing’s changed.

But something has changed. Your lungs will never fill with air again and the thought of that kills me. My breathing is involuntary and each inhalation that gives me life is a reminder that the same oxygen won’t give life to you.

I sit in this house, the one we shared, and, if it’s really quiet, there’s a spirited laugh upstairs. It was a hearty lively one, a laugh that bellows from deep within and lights up the world, yours. For just a second, I imagine you’ll walk down those steps at any second, giggling away without a care in the world in that carefree way you have, shake her head at my awed face and tell me it’s all one big horrible nightmare. But then realisation dawns and the vibrant, live self transforms as you stand on those stairs before me, turning into that sickly pale frail little thing, the only memory of you I want to forget. And then I remember the funeral I attended what feels like a lifetime ago.

I never really liked wearing suits. It just feels unnatural to me. I wore a suit twice this month. The first was on our wedding. You were there and you were beautiful. The second was at your funeral. This time, you weren’t but I know where ever you were, you were still beautiful.

The balloons were a nice touch. Even in death, you manage to put a smile on one’s face and I truly admire that about you. That selflessness and inner beauty is what I will always love. You had such a kind giving heart and you made me want to be worthy of your love. Your love was something that could never be taken, it had to be earned. It was a special thing, your love, a sacred thing. I still can’t believe my luck that you chose to give me a small piece of that heart. I will cherish it forever.

For you, my love. For you, my hopes, my dreams. For you, my heart. Death ripped it straight out of my chest, the crimson blood bursting out of my veins, skin tearing, eyes tearing. For you, my body, my soul. The eyes that once admired your beauty, the ears that relished in the lyrical symphony of your voice, and the fingers that grazed your tender skin all belong to you.

Forgive the tear stains on this page. I can’t seem to find composure. Every little thing reduces me to dust these days. It’s probably because every little thing makes me think about you. I’ve been told it gets easier but I don’t understand how. How could it possibly be easier to live without you?

The second you walked away from this world, I could physically hear the shredding as my body was invaded by that unwelcome force, ripping me from the inside out, forcefully tearing my soul until I was broken. My soul is healing, slowly, but there is still that small part that will always remain scarred. That was the part of me that belonged to you. For every piece of you that you took away with you when you left, a piece of me was destroyed with it.

Our time together was untimely stolen from us there is still so much I have to tell you. There is so much I never got the chance to say then. All these words and feelings and emotions flow out of my pen when I write to you but it’s come to my attention that I haven’t yet iterated to you the most important string of syllables in the universal vocabulary. You know Belle, it’s really very easy. Only three simple words:

I love you.

THE END

...Hope this was okay... I've never written a love letter before.

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