I hear nothing in return but his gentle breathing and weigh the consequences of whispering aloud again.
I understand that he needs his sleep. But, at the same time, I sense the lonely weight of being the only one awake with unsaid words that press urgently against my heart. Words that need to be spoken.
“Honey, are you up?”
A few moments pass and then he utters a soft “uh-huh” as he turns to face my direction—his lovely familiar and sleepy, relaxed face glowing in the moonlight streaming through the window.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah, I guess so.” He replies.
I decide to say what has been on my mind. . .
“Remember the last time I saw my dad and I thought he was dying because I felt that his soul had left his body, but no one believed me? Everyone told me that I was going crazy because there seemed to be nothing wrong with him, but then he took his life ten days later.
Well, I wish with every fiber of my heart that I had told him everything I felt about him while I still had the chance. I regret that I didn’t reveal that I knew something was wrong, but my feelings were influenced by other’s reactions so much that I felt too awkward and stupid to mention anything to him.
You know how nothing is certain in life? And I do feel that you and I are certain, but I can’t bear the thought of ever having to live without you. Continue reading