Did I say “I love you” enough? I know I can’t change anything now, but these thoughts won’t leave me at peace now. So typical – my last breath will be the one of regret. I can still see you, you know? I see you standing over my bed, raising my pillow, trying to smile even though I know you think I have already departed and this here is just a body of a man you loved. I know that because I have seen the moment you lost your hope.My body doesn’t ache anymore; I can’t really say I feel anything in physical sense, but that moment hurt me more than anything ever did in my life. It was only then that I realized that pain is not a physical phenomenon at all. You don’t need a functioning body to feel pain or get hurt.
I can’t say this to you, but I don’t blame you, my love. I don’t. You held on longer than I did. You gave up long after me, and still you are here, washing my face every morning changing my clothes.
I wish you’d still talk to me. I miss your voice.
All I have now are my thoughts. I think about everything I did but even more, I think about all the things I avoided to do, or never found the time to. Life is not about what you did, but everything you didn’t. I’m so wise now, and there is no one to share it with – another one of those things. It’s all a part of the big picture, I guess. I went through my life like a bull, head on. I was known for being brave and I really had no fear of Life at all. I triumphed over any big challenges that life presented me with.
I failed all the “small” ones, though. I didn’t see my kids enough. I didn’t say “I love you”enough. I didn’t take you out for dinners often enough. Or walks, you love walks. How many walks did you walk alone, my love? If it was one it would be one too many. I should have been there for you, much more than I have. I should have helped you in all those little things that sum-up to entire lifetime. There are no excuses for it, and no way to do anything differently anymore. Is this the point of it all, this idea; knowledge of what’s right and what’s wrong, is this the sole purpose of dying? Is that why it takes so long?
Questions; all I have left now. Life is not an outward motion at all, it is all inside, and none of us really gets to feel that until it is all taken away. Stripped of all the worldly things and desires, even of my own body, I realized that the only thing that defines me is me, the innermost, reflexive me, the one that just is. That drop of Life inside us all that never changes, no matter how old we get and how many skins and bodies we shed along the way. Me. And that me realizes now how futile my life of achievements and challenges was. All my possessions, my houses, my cars; even my clothes, it means nothing. Here I am, almost naked; tubes that feed me and tubes that breath for me. I have nothing left, but still I am whole. I am still me. You are here, you still care for me and I am still capable of love.
I hear the loud beep, though not really with my ears. I feel it somehow, by the way the room shimmered suddenly and the way you jumped back, unsure what to do.
The tears in your eyes hurt me, but I can’t stop them, sweetie. It is time to go; another thing that is out of my hands and control, as if anything ever really was. Have I told you I love you enough, sweetie? Have I? In a heartbeat, I’ll be gone, but I will make it count, baby. Every cell of my body, every single beam of energy that I consist of, all yours. Don’t cry, you made my life worthwhile. I wouldn’t have lived at all if it wasn’t for you, but merely existed.
Goodbye, my love, I love you. I love you.
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