[color=#E8A5A5][font=Calibri] Hello everyone! I dug up an old story that I wrote a while back today. I've decided to share it with you all - I hope you enjoy it. When I wrote it, it was in a rush, so I hope it makes sense. ^^; [size=3][u][b]Note:[/b][/u][/size] The places where I have a "___" is where the husband's name should go. I couldn't come up with one for him...>_<;;[/font][/color] [align=center][color=#F78181][font=Georgia][size=6]Love, Loving, Loved[/size][/font][/color] [img]http://i42.tinypic.com/jfzo6b.jpg[/img][/align] [spoiler][b]Love, Loving, Loved[/b] – [i]One in the Same[/i] . . . They say that karma has a way of getting back at you. I remember that day clearly, when I so jokingly poked fun at her singleness. “Lesley’s just not made for love, I guess!” I joked, as my wife gave me a dangerous look. “She’s better off as just a friend – but I guess she’s learned that already!” Again and again, I poked fun at her status while my wife glared on, looking apologetically at her best friend, wanting to say something, but unable to. I was her husband, and she wouldn’t embarrass me like that in front of the entire crowd. Again and again, she took the blow, one by one. At the end of the party, when everyone made their goodbyes and collected their shoes from the closet, she faced me, said a warm “thank-you” and left. You wouldn’t have been able to guess what had been said to her that evening. At that time, I never expected that same fate to befall me. I never wished it. But fate has this funny way of biting you when you least expect it to, when you least want it to. My wife passed away that coming October. And as the leaves turned from bright red and orange to a subtle yellow besieged by a murky green, I was left alone to bear the empty, icy touch of the winter season. November itself was hard to get through. The days passed by like the slow chime of the church bells, droning on for what seemed like a century. I coveted the attention of someone, but no one could relate to the pain that I felt. No one seemed to understand the pangs of guilt I felt for the occasional happiness that came my way. How could life go on with her, she who I spent my formative years in life with? She who had given me so much happiness, and now, so much sorrow in her absence. My body slowly began to give way to my depressed state. I forgot even the basic of human tasks. Hunger evaded me and sleep my body became deprived of, but the feelings became all too familiar. It seemed like the spiraling steps of a never ending tower, and I was the unlucky soul who had to climb to the top. I couldn’t get over myself; the life that I once led seemed unattainable. I finally allowed myself to travel outside my apartment on a cold December afternoon. Trudging through the fallen snow, I made my way to a lake that Dana and I had once frequented. Sitting on the bench nearby, I tried to remember its serene beauty. The memories of the past flooded my head, and I tried to control myself as I travelled through them, relieving each and every moment we spent together here, overlooking the lake. There was this one occasion, on a bright June, days after her birthday, when we came here armed with picnic baskets and sunscreen – our only mission to enjoy what was left of our short summer break before the call of the office life brought us back to reality. She squealed in delight as she viewed the luminescent scales of the new baby fish, scaring me for a moment there, because I had thought there was something wrong. She was a professor at the nearby college, studying the aquatics had always been her dream, she confided in me. But during the darkness of the night, when I ever felt doubt, she would assure me that despite her love for marine life, she always held our life together more dear in her heart. “Do you really think that I’d rather spend a year on a smelly, seasick boat, when I can just stay here with my wonderful husband, who can spoil me with all the joys of the world?” she asked, jokingly. A young cod’s head surfaced near the top, and the lad blew his bubbles at me, trying his hardest to cheer me up. But it was no use, I couldn’t do this. Remembering this happiness only reminded me of one more thing – how I could never have this happiness again. And I broke down in silent sobs. “It’s really chilly out here. I never could understand why she loved sitting out so much, just watching these fish.” A voice startled me momentarily out of my lapse. I turned and saw Lesley, looking at me with her tired face and weary eyes. “May I sit down?” she asked, motioning to the empty spot next to me on the bench. “Sure.” I replied. What harm could it do? I owed her that much, at least, from all the misery I supposed I caused her back then with my incessant taunting. “...Even so”, she continued, “Even though it was the middle of winter, and a snowstorm was raging behind, it would all be worth it, just to see that pleased look on her face. It would make everything all better, and the cold wouldn’t seem so cold anymore. Even the heaviest of hearts would be set light, I think, just by watching that face.” I nodded, unable to talk. It still hurt. “You know,” she said, turning slightly to face me. “It won’t do you any good to just lock yourself in the house for the rest of your life. It’s sad, I know, but life goes on, whether or not we’re ready for it yet.” I had nothing to say. “I miss her a lot too, you know.” She said softly, sensing my uncomfort. “Sure, I wasn’t married to her like you were, but we did have our fair share of life together. We talked about everything under the sun; laughed together, cried together, worried together...this was the girl that I spent a good portion of my growing up with. I saw her on all the major holidays, weekends in between, and phone calls on a regular basis. We talked to each other about things we wouldn’t dream of sharing with anyone else.” She sighed. Silence followed, and she waited before continuing quietly, a sob stuck in her throat, “You lost your wife, but I lost someone too. I lost my best friend, the only person that understood me completely for myself. That loss has left a void in my life, as it probably has with you. This whole thing hasn’t exactly been a cakewalk for the rest of us, _____.” “You don’t understand, though.” I replied. “You’ve never been in love to have lost your soulmate.” She let a soft whistle out through her teeth. “I guess some habits do die hard, don’t they. You still don’t seem to believe that I have human emotions, go figure.” She chuckled. “I still think, and I’ve told Dana many times, you’re just suffering from bitter child syndrome. You can’t get over the fact that your beloved has relations other than you.” She sat for a while, just watching the snow as it floated down from the heavens. Then she spoke again, a bit more serious than before. “But you’re wrong. You always have been with that. As surprising and unreal as you might think it to be, I was in love before. So much that you could even possibly compare it to the love that you and Dana had, that you still have. But mine’s was different, in many ways. It wasn’t as strong as yours, and it was one sided – though I didn’t know that until it was too late.” I looked up. “What do you mean, ‘too late’? How can love be too late?” She met my gaze, and for the first time, I saw the sadness in her eyes. She opened her mouth, each following word more painful than the last. “He left me, of course. I didn’t know that he would. I didn’t expect that he would. But he did. I was a lady in love, and no one could have told me otherwise. And no – by ‘he left me’ I don’t mean that he died. ...he left me on my wedding day.” She fiddled around with her glove as she got ready to explain her story. “It was my wedding day. The day that we signed papers, all dolled up in wedding clothes. He was a regional director for some hotshot company, and we met through our parents. We were going to be practical and not have an extravagant wedding, because he had to fly of to Taiwan soon for a press conference, and wouldn’t be back for a long time. I remember waking up early that morning, overflowing with excitement. Dana helped me choose my wedding gown, and she was there throughout that whole day, offering me words of encouragement in a way only a best friend could. She might not have known it, but those small words meant so much to me, I hope I told her enough,” she said, smiling to herself at the memory. “Anyway, so I waited in the brides room, all prepared to sign the papers and perform the prayers. Dana sat close to my bride’s platform, giving happy pulses from her head. At first, when the papers didn’t reach me, I thought that maybe some small problem had occurred. Maybe he and his family were stuck in traffic or something like that. But after an hour, and then another, I knew something was wrong. Something was wrong, and no one would tell me, afraid of my reaction. But I knew - I could see it in their eyes. The unsure glances they kept on giving each other. ‘Should we tell her, or shouldn’t we? How long can we hide this? More importantly, who should tell her?’ Finally, Dana came up to me. She put her hand on my lap, and lifted my jewelry heavy face up to hers. ‘Should we beat him up with a bat or a club, or should we just get it all over with and just skin his sorry ass all the way to the next planet?’ It had all been a joke. A cruel one. He and his family knew all along that this wasn’t going to be a wedding; in fact, they were nowhere to be found on the wedding day, like all the pieces of their game had been removed for the end scene. He wasn’t serious about me, I was just a toy that he could play with for the moment.” She finished. “I’m sorry Lesley, for what I said to you. I...I didn’t know.” I told her, truly sorry now for mocking her in the past. I wondered how many days she had spent alone after that, waking up in the morning to the emptiness of her apartment, and living life, scarred by that disaster marriage. She seemed really happy when she was with us, but how was she all the rest of the time? “You shouldn’t be. We wouldn’t have been able to be a good couple together anyway. I did end up accidentally going to his actual wedding – his wife was, to his pleasure, a bimbotic, two-faced, gold-digging idiot, and like Dana always did tell me, I could never live up to her...erm, standards. Ha-ha.” Yep, the bad, but slightly funny humor that was trademark Lesley. “Well, moral of the story, ____, is that you shouldn’t keep fooling yourself the way you are now. Dana was special; no one on this Earth will ever be able to replace her, the way she did things, and most importantly, the way she made you feel. That’s why you shouldn’t look down on your memories as moments that bring you to sadness, but as the small gems that collected, amount to a lifetime of happiness. Don’t you get it? You and Dana had what most couples don’t have the joy of having – an everlasting, pure love. A love that continues to live on, even now.” She points to me and continues. “You still love her, and I know that she’ll always love you too. You guys have an undying bond, and I’m both honored and delighted that even though I couldn’t have one of my own, that I could have had the joy of watching yours grow from the very beginning. “ Getting up, she brushes the snowflakes off from her coat, now wiser and more enthusiastic. “When I got dumped, all I did was cry and think, ‘why me, why me?’, but you know what ___? I got over it, and you should be able to live on too. What you had with Dana was rare and beautiful, so don’t let this sadness have you forget that, and stop you from living.” She walked away, and stopped halfway to turn around to say one last thought. “Oh, don’t forget that Dana always did like them bad boy types.” “And”, she said, flashing a grin, “I don’t think uberly depressed boys are considered bad boys.” And from above, a twenty something year old lover of the sea laughed in agreement.[/spoiler]