Sample #2, Memories Influence Life

It has been seven years, four months and eighteen days since it happened. Since he left me. 

I'm frozen in life. The memories of him suffocate me each and every day. I remember his brown hair, which had always been longer than I liked. His deep eyes, that never carried light along with them. Though, they seemed soft when met with mine. And forever will I remember his skin against my own. The way it shot electricity straight through each and every vein of mine. Even after eleven years together the butterflies in my stomach never failed to wake. We had fit together, like perfect increments.

 Near the beginning of the coping, I had tried many different things to keep going in life. One of them was attempting to hold on to every inch of him as I could mentally hold in the small head of mine. I continued attending our weekly couple nights, which were held at our friends Mary and Johns house. They didn't try hard to hide the obvious fact that I was no longer wanted there anymore. That was the first and last time I would try attending alone.

I lost our friends, our business we had been carrying together, and his love for me.

In our room, his belongings are untouched. The side of the bed he slept in, is still tucked in from when he last made it. His belt is still hanging over the television stand. Two feet over, near the door, are his moccasins, placed out as if he would be returning tonight. 

I am quite aware of his death. I know he is gone. I know I won't be able to see his thin lips disappear as he smiles. Not once again will I witness his completely ridiculous jig he had always dance to cheer me up. I have lost him physically, but I can't handle losing him in any other way again. So in that saying, I hold onto him. Every bit of him. I try to live as if he was still here. I am told I am worrying about things that I can't change. I get that I will continue on being blue if I don't change my ways. I don't care. 

I still wear our wedding ring. I don't see the point of taking it off, as I won't have another placed on that finger ever again. For the next 55 years o my life, I will exist in the memories of him. His chair, where he sat every night watch shows, has never been touched, and it won't ever be.

I understand my attitude is depressing or saddening, but people just do not realize how memories really affect our lives. The things he did, the places we went, and our stories we shared will forever be with me. It is not a choice to keep them either. They just hover, now and forever. Whether I like it or not.