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"Who Was That Masked Man? I Wanted to Thank Him"

What I Should've Said When You Were Still Here

By hannah irelanPublished 6 years ago 7 min read
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You come up in the strangest places. Driving reminds her most of you. Whenever she is driving home at night, or when she looks up at the sky, there’s always a single star. She smiles, puts her head down, closes her eyes, and knows deep in her heart that you’re still with her. You kept your promise. It’s a simple solace, but it’s one that she can always rely on. She thinks of you when she writes. She feels you running through her fingertips, igniting a fire in her hands. She thinks of you right before she closes her eyes every night. She thinks of you always. There is no escape, and sometimes, she doesn’t want one. Because sometimes, a life filled with painful memories of all that you gave her is better than never knowing you at all.

She started writing more after you left. It started simple. She’d end the day with a quick journal entry of how much she missed you, but as time went on, she craved more. She started writing to you every day, almost like you were still here. It became a habit. She would tell you about the boys who broke her heart, the test that she was nervous about, or the stress of her workweek. She stopped telling you how much she missed you because the more she spoke, the more she felt like you never left. She’s happier now that she’s found a way to miss you without mourning you.

She’s never known you face to face, but sometimes she imagines what it would have been like to have you. She wonders what it would have felt like to be your child, to be “daddy’s baby.” Would she have woken each morning to the sound of your voice singing a song as you sat on the edge of her bed, stroking her hair? Would you have made her breakfast every morning? What lessons would she have learned from you? What would your voice have sounded like right before you fell asleep? Would she be able to feel your heartbeat through your clothes as you hugged her? She’ll never get the answers to these questions, not until she sees you again.

She can’t wait to know you, the real you. She’s said it a thousand times: she stopped being afraid of dying when she realized who was waiting for her, and she means it. She can imagine how warm your arms are, and how tight your hands will hold her when you meet. She can’t wait to talk to you. She wants to know what your voice sounds like when you’re at ease. She wants to know how you sleep. She hopes it’s like she’s always imagined.

After you died, she had nightmares. Dreaded things. She’d wake up from a deep slumber, screaming for you. But my nightmare followed her into reality. Because you were gone. You were gone, and she will never see you again. Do you understand how hopeless that is? To know that she will never hear your voice? Or see your smile? Or have the chance to not take you for granted like she’s done for years? It feels like being suspended in air. She can see her life below her. She can see the people who care trying to help her. She can see time passing right in front of her, but still, her eyes are fixed on you. She doesn’t care that her life is no longer her own. What good is it without you? She’d give it all up if it meant having you back. That’s the truth she’s so scared to admit. It’s not that she wants to die, it’s that she knows she would if it meant seeing you again.

She’s scared of the things she’d give up for you. Not because she doesn’t love you, but because she loves you too much. You’re like oxygen to her. Being without you feels like dying, and almost nine years later, she’s tired of feeling that way. She’s tired of living the lie that one day she’ll be happy again. She’s tired of pretending like every time she smiles feels like a knife in her heart. She’s tired of being dead.

Her heart aches to tell you how it feels now. She just wishes she could sit in front of you and let her heart pour. She’s not sure what it would say. She’s not sure if she would trust that you’re real. How could she? She’s spent eight years learning how to live alone, and then you’re back. How does someone cope with that? Memories are sometimes worse than death. She’s learned that first-hand. The shock of death calms after a while, but memories are permanent. They never disappear after a while. She may forget the details of your death, but she’ll never forget the bracelets on your wrists or the chain around your neck. She may forget the exact time that you died, but she’ll never forget the time you were born. She may forget that you died, but she’ll never forget that you’re gone. She’ll never forget the important things because forgetting those would be like losing a part of herself.

She still doesn’t know how to talk about you. It may be eight years later, but she’s still floating in air. She hasn’t dealt with your death; she doesn’t know how. She tries to come up with words to tell people when they ask why she has to carry a picture of you around with her, but they all fall short. She doesn’t know why. All she knows is that she feels better having you so close. She knows she can keep you safe there.

She wishes she could keep you safe now. Why didn’t she protect you when she had the chance? Why did she let you slip so far away from her so that by the time she was ready to catch you, you were worlds away? Why was she so negligent with your life, but so broken by your death?

There’s something unusual about you and her, something buried deep in the stars. Galaxies explode from your fingertips when you touch, and solar systems pour from her mouth when she talks about you. You aren’t simple, not slightly. You are profound and wonderful, full of every natural phenomenon born from the sky. The universe planned for you, and she knew it. It didn’t matter that she fell apart over and over again, it was that you put her back together every time. Whenever she cracked, you healed those wounds. That’s why you are so important to her. There’s never been another person in her life who has loved her like you did. She’s never found wholeness in another person like she did with you. That’s her blessing, but it’s also her curse because you’re gone, and even though she doesn’t want to admit it, she knows it’s true. Sometimes she wonders if the happiness she felt with you is the only happiness she’ll ever feel in her life. You were her soulmate, and people say those only come around once in a lifetime. She's glad she found you when she did.

She knows that everything in this world happens for a reason, at least that’s what she’s been told. She’s been told that life isn’t easy and that it’s full of heartache and sadness, and people will be taken from her without any rhyme or reason, but she needs the reason. She has to know why the one person she needed most in her life isn’t here anymore. Who’s going to guide her? Who’s going to stay up with her at three in the morning when she needs to cry? Who’s going to be the one, her one? Who’s going to keep her warm, and safe, and happy? She may not have all the answers, but there’s one thing that she knows for certain: whoever’s hands take his place, they won’t ever replace his warmth.

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About the Creator

hannah irelan

24, treat people with kindness, always support the small joys of others

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